#full explanation will be included when i finally ANSWER THE DAMN ASK

[getvalentined]

Someone asked me about something VinVeld related and I've been working on the response for two hours because I had to double check some terminology to explain the canonicity of them being partners, which led me down a rabbit hole on titles used amongst coworkers, which led me to check how often one title specifically shows up in the Japanese BC script, which led me to double checking that I remembered the honorifics used between characters and how that's super relevant to keep in mind when interpreting Veld and Vincent's short interaction—

This isn't even the question, it's just necessary information for me to be able to explain my take on the situation, because I don't want people to just take everything I say at face value without knowing where it came from.

There is something so fucking wrong with me.

[quindolyn]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone  of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

taglist: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @thatvenusbabe @zzzfour @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @thatdummymarie @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @pagesbetweensheets @locnylupin @mjoubertt-1@blowing-mikey @slvt4fakerealities @kaqua @pottahishotasf

[oonajaeadira]

If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.” 

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one. 

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing. 

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night. 

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there. 

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself. 

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.” 

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him. 

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm-- 

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

Taglist: @melobee @extraterrestrialdork @14mcmd1122 @grogusmum @cannedsoupsucks

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Finding Out a Lesser Demon with a Crush is “Moving In” on MC

You know, I like to show the good sides of our boys a lot… But how about the ugly for today? Let's let them just being mean, nasty, possessive little demons, huh? 

Full disclaimer: I almost didn’t post this because I received an answer post from @diavolosthots that ended up being distressingly similar to this idea about 3/4th of the way through drafting it. I’m posting it anyway because of the time I’ve already sunk into it but in exchange I will absolutely encourage you to read from @diavolosthots if you aren’t already. They’re a big reason why I’m making content to begin with and I love what they’ve done. Warning: their blog is a LOT less fluffy than mine (they probably wouldn't be into my stuff 😅) and has NSFW content so be prepared for that going in. If that’s not your thing then just give them a pass, cool?

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Warnings: Violence, Bullying, Cyberbullying, Cannibalism(?), Murder, Yandere-ish

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Lucifer

Is honestly offended for them.

Don’t they know the caliber of demon MC rubs elbows with every day? Do they honestly think they’d stand a chance? Any one of his brothers would be more deserving than some lesser demon suitor and that even INCLUDES Mammon.

But of course, the real reason they’d stand no chance is because he wants the MC too and he’s not planning on sharing with or losing to someone who isn’t even worthy to be stuck under his boot...

He may lay down some… “discreet” hints for the poor demon to look elsewhere.

Things like advising Diavolo to make some emergency changes to the classes at RAD so they no longer share any class together or watching the demon extra closely for any minute slip up he can flag them for. If he could have them expelled for a dress code violation, he’d do it no sweat.

Okay, "discreet hints…" Flagrant misuses of power… Same difference right?

He may never come right out and say they should leave MC alone (why dignify the guy with such a response?) but if looks could kill then his “competition” would be utterly decimated by now. Especially if he ever catches the two in the same room... Yikes.

Mammon

Oooo buddy, he ain’t happy. He doesn’t even like sharing with his brothers and now some rando wants a piece too?? Nuh-uh. No way.

Takes the more direct approach and just confronts the guy when the MC isn’t around. It's good for the demon that Mammon doesn’t like resorting to violence if he doesn’t have to. Heated words and a threat or two will be exchanged then they can go their separate ways.

That can be the end of it if the guy backs off (as anyone with sense should). But if not…

When he makes a threat, and he’s serious about it, Mammon makes good on them.

He’ll come back to the House one night a little beat up, maybe with a few nicks and scratches. Of course he’ll want the MC to play nurse for him and he’ll be delighted if they accept (even if his tsundere ass won’t say it).

The lesser demon apparently dropped out of RAD the next day. No explanation given. He didn’t even step foot back on the school grounds to do it...

Of course, everyone’s sure there’s no relation between the two. I mean, this is the same Mammon we’re talking about… right...?

Leviathan

It’s a miracle he even found out but now that he knows he’s pissed. He’s not the Avatar of Envy for nothing.

Look, he might be a shut-in and not worth all that much but he’s got to be better than some lesser demon guy! He’s the third born and he has a freaking navy for crying out loud!!

Will likely leave his room for the first time in who knows how long to follow the MC to RAD. Once he’s got a face to the name, that’s all he needs for his hatred to really get going...

He will make this dude’s life a living hell with the best tool a shut-in has, the Internet. 

He’ll dedicate a freaking week to digging up dirt on this bozo then start releasing it out to everywhere he frequents. Not a single sock of that dirty laundry is getting left out. All of his most embarrassing secrets are laid bare for the Devildom to see.

He’d cover his tracks, of course, so nothing can be traced back to him. The MC is probably none-the-wiser to who’s spreading all this hot gossip but his brothers know right away.

Once the dude’s social life and pride are in utter ruin, he’ll invite the MC over for a movie marathon to celebrate! He might even get a little more cuddly than usual... His MC is with him and that’s how it ought to be.

Satan

Pffft… That’s cute. Real cute they think they stand a chance. He’d wish them luck but he also kind of wants to stab them so…

On the one hand, he knows he probably shouldn’t waste his time but on the other he just can’t resist the call to absolute devastation that his inner rage is forcing on him...

His new goal is to utterly undermine the new competition in every way, mental and physical, which means he will take every opportunity he can to demonstrate just how much on another level he is. 

Gets nitpicky and corrects the guy’s every move. If he says something wrong in class, he’ll berate him for it. Make a social faux pas? Well now the whole school is going to know about it.

Doesn’t stop there, though. He will do everything in his power short of throwing the first punch to try and instigate a fight with the him. He knows that if he technically starts it then the punishment will be on him, but the other way around he can say, “Hey, he’s the one who punched Wrath incarnate. What was he expecting would happen?”

Any resulting fight between the two would be a very one-sided bloodbath. He will not hold back at all and stop when he damn well feels like. The guy will be in whatever the Devildom equivalent to a hospital is for weeks...

If the MC tries to ask him about his behavior, he’ll gaslight them and change the subject. He doesn’t really like indulging in the more violent side of himself in his day-to-day life but some things just can’t be helped, can they?

Asmodeus

Honestly not as bothered as the others are. He knows they stand zero chance, so why worry? It’s bad for the skin.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to sit back and do nothing. Oh no, a zero chance could always become a one, even five percent chance if you’re not careful.

Asmo’s preferred method of ridding competition is like a mixture of Satan and Levi, but Oh. So. Much. Worse.

Lesser demons can be astonishingly easy to charm without them noticing and he is the best charmer of the family. He’s pretty popular to start with but suddenly he’s talking to almost everyone he comes across until, well, he’s got the whole school listening.

From there it’s child’s play. Suddenly, the demon’s friends won’t talk to them. People stare and whisper about them in the hallways, is what they’re saying true? Doesn’t matter. Asmo could feed them anything and they’d believe it.

He’ll make sure they feel isolated, alone, and hated by everyone they speak to and they won’t even know why. Going to RAD at all will be like walking into a prison. Ideally, they’ll just stop going, and then tada! Competition no more.

Of course, he could just charm the competitor to look elsewhere, but then who’s going to be the example to the others? Nobody needs any more “Zero-Chancers” popping up around the MC, right? You’re welcome, sweetie~! 😘

Beelzebub

He’s trying not to be that guy, he really is… but since the MC is involved… Really? You actually think you got a shot there, buddy?

Probably going to be the brother most likely to try and let the guy down gently at first, but make no mistake he will make sure he knows it’s a lost cause.

If the other demon still insists on being a competitor though… Alright.

MC pretty much goes under his “protection” from that point on. If they’re at RAD at all, Beel is not far behind. Not exactly looking outright intimidating but always just…. there.

But if the dude so much as enters a room with them he’ll be sure to stare him down and mention that he’s hungry a little louder and a lot more often.

To the MC that may just be typical Beel, but everyone else there knows Beel has swallowed lesser demons whole in the past. And for a lot less reason than this...

When Beel gets territorial he can be a subtle about it, but terrifying nonetheless.

Belphegor

Would laugh in their face and give zero shits about it. 

Like, even as the weakest sibling he could snap them like a toothpick and that’s not even getting to how they probably know jack all about the MC anyway. What even is this idiot??

Starts pulling some casual “pranks” on the guy to grief him at first. Little things like tripping him up with his tail or taking his things and hiding them in inconvenient places.

The lazy part of him hopes he’ll get the message and back off but that sadistic side really hopes he doesn’t so he’ll never talk to him directly...

When, of course, the dude doesn’t back off because he doesn't know he's supposed to, his pranks start escalating. A textbook in the school pool suddenly becomes an explosive curse put on their backpack. A kind of homicidal passive-aggression, if you will.

By some unholy miracle the guy manages to last a couple days after a barrage of progressively lethal murder attempts pranks, Belphie’s inner laziness and frustration will finally get to him and he’ll cut the passive from his aggression.

Much like with Mammon, everyone finds out that the demon dropped out of school quite suddenly. But he’s also seemed to have gone dark from all his socials and his friends can’t seem to find him anywhere... 

Concerns were raised with Lucifer but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about starting an investigation... It’s not the first time he’s covered for his brothers after all. 🙄🤷‍♀️

[honeytae]

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut. 

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall. 

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” 

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom. 

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes. 

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there. 

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back. 

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back. 

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying. 

“Which one are you looking for?” 

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed. 

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man. 

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you. 

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check. 

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot. 

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.” 

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head. 

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend. 

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you. 

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play. 

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh. 

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face. 

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone. 

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying. 

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown. 

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue. 

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate. 

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man. 

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own. 

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“ 

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain. 

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action. 

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip. 

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer. 

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.” 

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered. 

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame. 

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots. 

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought. 

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head. 

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face. 

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man. 

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout. 

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?” 

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place. 

“Alright, boss.” 

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together. 

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one. 

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

He flirts with everyone - F.W

Summary: Y/n gets drunk at the opening party of the joke shop when she sees her best friend Fred flirting again. She accidentally tells him about her feelings when she thinks it's George...

A/N: Normally I write smut but I LOVE this idea and I had so much fun writing it! I'm a little insecure about it because it's not smut, so please give feedback. I hope you'll like it! x

Warnings/Includes: Drinking, alcohol, insecure reader, 1 mention of sex, really passionate kiss, angst to fluff :)

Today was THE day, the opening of Fred and George their joke shoppe. It all started in the evening, with a big opening party.

Y/n was outside watching the doors of the shop, preparing herself to walk through. Dimmed music and lights could already been noticed where she was standing. She was a little nervous. The twins are her best friends, they knew each other since they were little, but it's been a month now since she's seen them. That was long for them, it was the longest they haven't seen each other, ever.

When she opened the door she was overwhelmed with the loud music and all the people in the room. How is she supposed to find those twins? But before she started searching properly, she already saw George standing there. You really couldn't miss him, with his tall figure and bright smile he stood out of the crowd.

"George!" you screamed. George turned his head immediately and smiled bright.

"Y/n! Finally!" he grinned and he gave you a big hug.

"It's so pretty in here, congratulations Georgie" y/n smiled. George seemed proud, she was thrilled to see him back but she couldn't stop herself from wondering where Fred is.

As if George could read her mind: "I think Fred is.. er.." he said while looking around.

And that's when they saw him standing next to the stairs. "There" George added. But both of their smiling expressions changed when they really saw him. Like we all know him, Fred was flirting again. Y/n knew she really had no single right to care about that, but the jealousy hit her like a truck. And George knew that.

A pretty tall lady was standing next to him. They were both laughing and giggling. Fred looked so damn handsome, she thought. His suit, the hair,... It was beautiful. Y/n watched how Fred gently laid his hand on the woman her shoulder and she seductively moved her fingers against her glass of alcohol. ALCOHOL that's it.

"Where's the alcohol" y/n asked George. He had a worried look on his face. "Y/n I don't think... I... Fred is just-" he stuttered but y/n cut him off. "I don't care, you don't owe me an explanation and certainly not in your brother's place, now give me some firewhisky or something" y/n stated.

"I know you're in love with him y/n" he explained full of pity. Of course George knew, you were his best friend and it was obvious to him but not to Fred. George always had to watch how you were hurt when you saw Fred with another girl, it happened back at Hogwarts too.

"Oh. Well. If you know then give me the drink" she kept asking. George nodded. They walked to the table with the drinks and George poured something in for her.

"You're not going to say hi to him?" he guessed. "Nope" y/n answered and she threw the whole drink down her throat. George felt sorry for her but also laughed a little, he liked drunk y/n after all, it was always fun.

-

An hour later there was already a dance floor full of people dancing their soul out. Including y/n. The alcohol was exploding in her body and she poured another shot down her throat when she saw Fred dancing with the girl from before or was it another girl already? One thing y/n knew for sure was that the girl was hot.

Her favourite song came on so she danced and danced... When suddenly, she didn’t know if it was an half hour later or maybe only 2 minutes, she felt someone pressing her shoulder.

Y/n turned around and saw Fred. “When did you get here?” he asks confused. Y/n decided not to answer and she kept dancing, swaying her hips to the music. “Weren’t you planning on saying hi to me?” he tries again.

“Nope” y/n responded trying to ignore the boy. She wasn’t even able to look into his eyes because she knew she would just melt.

“I’m going for another drink bye” she muttered, trying to get away from there as fast as possible. When she turned around Fred grabbed her arm to stop her.

“I think you’ve had enough, love” he whispered.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Fred Weasley and you certainly don’t have to call me love” y/n said angrily, leaving Fred confused.

Why didn’t she say hello to him? Didn’t she miss him? He missed her and this is what he gets? Fred didn’t understand a thing.

“Wow, calm down, what the hell is wrong with you?” he scoffed now getting angry too. "With me? Why don't you just go back dancing with that girl you stupid git" y/n insulted, immediately regretting what she just said. Fred was hurt. Angry. He didn't understand this at all.

"You're mental" he snapped. Tears started to form in y/n's eyes and Fred walked away. Leaving y/n there guilty, sad and drunk...

Y/n ran outside, finding an empty doorstep on a random house next to the shop, where she could sit on. Tears fell down when she buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to be so mean to Fred, but maybe shutting him out was the best way to get over him?

What y/n didn't know is that Fred regretted what he said too. He saw how hurt she was and he hated seeing his best friend like that. So he decided to go look for her.

His heart broke when he saw y/n sitting there, her hands in her hair and tears falling down. Fred sat next to her without saying a word. Y/n looked up and smiled, not knowing it was Fred.

No, she thought it was George, he knew how she felt after all. Normally, y/n was the best in telling them apart, but after all that alcohol, she made a big mistake.

Fred on the other hand, thought y/n knew it was him. He had no idea y/n thought she was sitting next to George.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked. "I messed up" y/n cried.

"You didn't mess up" he ensured her, trying to calm her down, but it became worse. "I did! Oh why am I in love with your stupid brother" she sighed, leaning down to lay her head on Fred's shoulder (or what she thought was George his shoulder).

Fred was shocked. In love with my brother, he thought, so she is in love with George? Did that stupid twin of him make her cry like this?

"Are you in love with my brother?" Fred gasped, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. He would never be able to watch how y/n dates his brother, the thought of it made him sick. He didn't want y/n to be in love with someone else and especially not his own brother.

"I thought you knew" y/n asked confused. "No, I didn't" Fred whispered, almost inaudible.

Y/n was confused, she talked about this with George just hours ago? But she forgot it already when she remembered how mean she was to the boy she loves with her whole hard.

"I love him, George, but he'll never love me the way I love him" y/n sobbed.

Fred gulped. Did she just say George as in: she loves George. Or did she just say George to him?

"You don't understand, I wanna have his babies!! I want to come home and see his smile, I want him to fuck me into oblivion!!! Please help me George" y/n suddenly screamed dramatically, still very drunk.

Now Fred was sure, she thought she was talking to George. Which meant all she said was about him. He wasn't able to move. Fred was shocked. How? When? Why? He had so many questions.

"But he flirts with everyone, every piece of woman he can find, he flirts with it. I'll never be enough" y/n sniffled.

That's when Fred finally put all the pieces together and realized why she acted like that. She must have seen him talking to that girl. All those girls. Has he really been so blind? And did she really think she's not enough for him? His heart broke and glowed at the same time.

He wanted to tell her so many things, he wanted to explain everything, to apologize. He wanted to tell her so so so much.

But he couldn't, he was speechless. It was like he was glued to the floor and turned into a puppet with empty strings.

"George?" y/n stammered when she saw the look on his face.

Fred only responded with eyes full of pity.

They looked in each others eyes for a moment, when suddenly, she realized.

The scar, the pattern of freckles and the chubbier cheeks.

It was Fred.

Y/n gasped loudly. "I-I-... Fuck." was the only thing coming out of her mouth.

She panicked, embarrassed and afraid of what will come next. So she grabbed her wand. The only idea that came up was to apparate away from him.

She waved her wand but before she even did something she felt Fred grab her arm and in a second she was in a room with him. He was first.

"Where are we" she asked. "In my apartment" Fred answered.

Y/n nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.

“Do you really think you’re not enough for me?” Fred whispered.

“What does it even matter” she huffs.

Fred took a step closer and he grabbed her hand. Y/n her eyes widened. “Do you really think that?” Fred repeats.

“Yes” y/n answered weakly.

“Why?” he questioned interested.

“Fred, look at you, you’re a handsome owner of a shop who played quidditch for years, I mean, look at that chest, you are funny, you are sweet, all the ladies drool over you and you flirt with all of them. They’re so pretty and I’m... I’m, me.” y/n rambled.

Fred’s heart was beating hard inside his chest, her honest words made his knees go weak. If she only knew how he saw her. How pretty he thinks she is. He was stupid for flirting with those girls right in front of her. It was his fault, her insecurities.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I know you don’t feel the same way, well that’s obvious, but I can’t see you that much any more, because when I see you I just want to rip off that shirt and kiss-“ she rambled and rambled like she was already doing the whole night, as if there was a ramblingpotion in her drinks.

But Fred cut her off by grabbing her shoulders and pushing her chest close to his.

“For Gods sakes, shut up woman” he whispered with a smile and he kissed you.

It was not just a kiss, it was something you both wanted to do for so long now. You both had never felt this way before. The passion was unexplainable. Fred grabbed y/n her ass very gently making her gasp a little, now he could enter his tongue. They fought for dominance. Y/n pulled on his red locks and pressed her body impossibly closer to his. She wanted to feel close to Fred, she wanted to show him how much she loved him.

Fred felt the same way, he left a very gentle bite on her lip, making her moan a little. His heart was swollen in his chest and he finally understood what they meant with those belly butterflies.

He was going to marry that girl one day, and like she said: give her his babies. The thought of her (actually) funny confessions made him grin on her lips.

“What are you smiling about” y/n chuckled when she left his lips.

“Nothing, nothing” he grinned.

After recovering from their passionate kiss, y/n and Fred were sitting on his couch. They talked and talked like they always could keep talking about random stuff. But now the topic was a whole different one.

Fred made sure y/n realized how bloody sexy he thought she was. He promised he would try his best to only flirt with her and he talked about how he liked her too back at hogwarts. Y/n couldn’t believe it at first but after talking for a while she was convinced.

She laid in Fred’s arms while he drew little patterns on her back. She enjoyed his smell and how warm he felt. It felt safe, it felt like home.

“Thank god, finally!” they heard a voice coming from across the room. It was George.

You all laughed.

“Without you we wouldn’t lay here like this Georgie” Fred joked.

“But I didn’t do anything?” George furrowed his eyebrows.

“I know” Fred laughed placing a soft kiss on your head.

-

join my taglist :)

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( I hope you’re not disappointed because this has no smut )

[pochiperpe90]

Here comes “The Old Guard”. Marinelli goes to Hollywood, alongside Charlize Theron.

“Alone, fragile and immortal.”

A story of love, friendship and compassion with an ancient warrior and a young African American, who has just discovered she is immortal, as protagonists. Because the world needs women and courage knows no gender differences. 20 years after “Love & Basketball” and after “The Secret Life of Bees” and “Beyond the Lights - Find Your Voice”, Gina Prince-Bythewood comes to the action movie with very clear ideas on how to reinvent the rules. We talked to her over the phone while she was in Los Angeles during the lockdown. 

A superhero movie that doesn't look like a superhero movie. Is that why you decided to make it? 

Absolutely yes, when I read the script I realized that despite the fantastic genre there was a very realistic background. These characters are real and it's easy for the audience to relate to them despite being immortal. They fight for goals and reasons that people understand. The more realistic the film, the more viewers can reflect themselves in the protagonists. 

In fact, the most fascinating aspect of the characters is their vulnerability: they are immortal, but up to a certain point, which is a paradox. They too have to deal with the sense of the end. 

There is a possibility that they may die, that their immortality is interrupted, that they still suffer from their wounds, and this brings them closer to us. The public still feels sorry for them when they see them in danger.

Immortals suffer, and not just physically.

Many think that being able to live forever would be extraordinary, but no one asks what this really means. Immortality has consequences: it can be a gift, but it can also be a curse.

And we don’t know why immortality fell to them. 

The thing I loved about the graphic novel and the script is the fact that there is no explanation. Not only do we not know it, but neither do the protagonists. But it is a trilogy and therefore there is still a lot to tell.

Could you offer your contribution to the script? 

It was a great script, with great roles based on the graphic novel so I stayed very true to the text. With the author, Greg Rucka, we wanted to reflect on the fear of taking someone's life, the one that sometimes overwhelms soldiers in war, whose psychology is often neglected. Hollywood films have never been very concerned with this aspect, as if killing had no consequences. The protagonists are forced to kill, but if someone has been doing it for centuries, for others it’s the first time. 

What struck you about Luca Marinelli? 

I could talk about him for days, I love him, he's the actor that all directors dream of having on set. He loved the character and gave him life in a very credible way. Between him and Marwan Kenzari is born a great complicity, necessary between two people who have been together for centuries. Luca's eyes are full of soul, his Nicky is the heart of the group, he’s the most sensitive character of all of them. 

Charlize Theron, who is also one of the producers, has an increasingly and more torn body.

Charlize has already played roles like this one, she is very credible in the genre of action and has been helpful to who had never faced it before. From her, who really worked hard, others learned to do the same. She is very credible in the role of a woman who lived for thousands of years.

Matthias Schoenaerts, on the other hand, has an insidious role. 

He embodies the tragedy of immortality, loneliness, betrayal. He is the actor who most resembles his character in the graphic novel. He wanted to make the film at all costs because he had never measured himself with the action genre and felt he had things to express. 

The film underlines how today it’s no longer possible to hide, images can capture you at any time. 

In a scene near the end, when the immortals look at photos and articles about them, they truly become aware for the first time of everything they have done to protect humanity. They understand the power of images from which they continually try to escape in order to hide their identity. 

And then we talk about science and profit. 

In the film, people from different places join forces to protect the world, a need even more relevant today. Yet it is increasingly evident that profit matters more than human lives. 

Do you think the film industry is becoming more inclusive with women? 

Things are finally changing and I am grateful that, despite having no other action films on my resume, I have been entrusted with The Old Guard. I am grateful for the trust they have placed in me. It should be taken for granted by now that women are capable of coping with any film genre and I think how much pressure from the industry Patty Jenkins, who directed Wonder Woman to success and opening the door for many of us, went through. But the door must be wide open because there are still few who have such opportunities. 

In your opinion, have opportunities grown with the arrival of platforms like Netflix? 

Netflix wasn't afraid to trust a series of directors. Which studio would have produced Roma or Irishman? He has the courage to make films that Hollywood deems too risky.

The Golden boy

“Luca Marinelli, as we have never seen him before: in his Hollywood debut, he becomes an immortal and fights with Charlize Theron to save the world.”

Just before the lockdown he was one of the jury members of the 70th Berlinale in the city where he has lived for years - and he swears he had so much fun watching three films a day. The audience awaits him in theatre in the role of Diabolik, in the film directed by Manetti Bros., but on July 10th he arrives on Netflix with The Old Guard, the action movie that sees him alongside Charlize Theron. And where he plays the Italian Nicolo, Nicky for the group of immortals he belongs to. Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood and based on the graphic novel by Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández, the film offers Luca Marinelli an insidious superpower, an endless love and a new opportunity to demonstrate his talent as a true champion. We reached him on the phone and he, less shy than usual, told us how he became a secular "superhero".

How did you get to the project? 

I auditioned in London, where I later returned and met the director. Lastly, there was a final meeting between me and Marwan Kenzari. We made a scene together and then they announced to me, "We'd love for you to be Nicky." 

What struck you about this character? 

The story fascinated me because it tells of immortals as if they were the damned. Nicky and Joe live this condition as a gift because they are linked by a wonderful love story and they are not alone. They met in an absurd and paradoxical situation, during the Crusades, ready to kill themselves. They did it a hundred times and then they looked at each other and fell in love. But others suffer from it, like Andy and Booker. In a beautiful scene, Booker, played by Matthias Schoenaerts, explains what happens to them: they see the people they love die and blame them because they cannot prevent it. And they are tired of watching the world repeat itself following the same dynamics. They fight to save people, but everything seems to go on the same way. Only in the end will they discover what they have done and what they are doing. 

How did it go with Charlize Theron? 

Well, it was wonderful! As I read the script I said to myself: am I really going to make a film with Charlize Theron? And hug as well! I was very excited and intimidated already while reading. She is an extraordinary actress. In the scene where we are at the table and everyone tells Nile something about us, Andy tells her what we are and it was nice to see her running and venturing into the midst of emotions and thoughts. Sometimes I got distracted and didn't say my line. But Charlyze is also a crazy athlete. You have to be really athletes, otherwise you don't survive at the end of the day. And Charlize is an athlete of the body and the heart. 

What about her athletic training? 

We got together a month before shooting to start working with the stunts. I had to get some athleticism back: when I arrived and they looked at me I think they were a little worried. We had to become familiar with martial arts and then we switched from the sword to other weapons and to hand-to-hand combat. We prepared scene by scene, including the choreographies, different for each fight, and each of us had his own rubber reproduction of the sword. It was an unforgettable training.

The immortals come from different places in the world. How much of Italy is there in Nicky? 

Apart from the pronunciation? They still laugh at some of the things I said. Marwan and Matthias, but also Charlize, speak Italian at different levels and every now and then I enjoyed shooting a few sentences to which they could answer me. 

Did you offer your character something that wasn't in the script? 

Well, being in such a group, shy as I am ... I tried. I have always focused on the bond between Nicky, Joe and the other members of the group, because I am interested in discovering what is inside a character, his feelings, how he looks at the world, what excites him. Nicky has lived for centuries, but still greets the people he meets in the desert with a smile, inside him there is the flame of an infinite good. Each character has a different sensitivity and their own armor. Nicky is perhaps the least armored one.

The challenge was also to make people believe in a love story that has lasted for centuries. 

Marwan recites a beautiful monologue in which he talks about their love story. I hope that each of us, in their short life, can say the same thing about the person they love. 

You’ve already had superpowers in “They Call Me Jeeg”. What is your relationship with this genre? 

I like it very much and I think that both films, very different from each other, have a very interesting soul. In Jeeg Robot, Enzo Ceccotti uses his superpowers to help others, taking on a social responsibility. In The Old Guard the protagonists put themselves at the service of others, even if no one has asked them to. “This is what we do,” they repeat over and over to each other. What they do is save people, participate in what they think is right. 

How do you think they would react to protests on American streets and around the world?

I don't feel like playing games, mixing reality and fiction on a terribly real subject like this. I think that in reality, outside of any cinematic fiction, it’s fundamental to fight for equality, within society, but also within ourselves. To go back to our film, if in a microscopic way we manage to carry a message in that direction, I would be very happy. 

What director was Gina Prince-Bythewood? 

She is always ready to listen, and I am someone who asks a lot of questions even at inappropriate times. She always had great patience and was very attentive to the emotional side of the film, to the interiority and beauty of the characters.

CIAK Magazine - Luglio 2020

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[camthesolemnone]

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

.

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base. 

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again. 

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out. 

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

[writtenonnapkins]

Recruiting Moony

Credit for Coops goes to @lumosinlove

It was way too early for Sirius to be walking into one of the Hogwarts locker room. Honestly, five A.M. was too early for any activities at all, but he was too full of nervous energy to sleep in today. 

Coach had asked the whole team to come in, despite it being off-season to review the tapes of some rookie they had recruited outside of the draft. Kingsley, the Director of Scouting, was also supposed to be at the mysterious discussion with the team.

In the locker room, every member seeming to be curious over what this was about. They didn’t usually have to view the tapes of any new team members, that decision was usually handled by the coaching staff and Scouters, so they all knew this wasn’t a normal meeting. 

Talker looked up from his conversation with Timmy when he entered, “So, Cap, what’s this about? I assume they told you more than us?” 

“Can’t say,” Sirius replied, “Just have to see what they have for us.”

“Ah-ha, a media answer! So you do know what we are here for, or rather who.”

The room had quieted down during Sirius and Talker’s exchange, listening in to see if they could get any new info from it. All of them were sitting up a bit straighter at the revelation that Sirius did, in fact, know a bit more than they did. 

“Common, Cap, give us a hint. Is he a risk? Old? Mean? Throw us a bone,” Talker pestered. He seemed to be the only one awake enough to do so at the moment, though the others were listening with growing interest.

“Stop bothering the Captain, Talker, you’ll know soon enough,” Coach said as he, the other coaches, and Kingsley entered the room, taking their places by the projector screen brought in after them. 

Kingsley set to booting up the projector while Coach attempted to wrangle the team into sitting down. 

“As I’m sure you may have noticed,” Kingsley began, “This is not our normal procedure when it comes to recruiting new players. But, we felt this was a special case that you all should have a voice in before we make an official offer.”

On the screen, a player profile picture popped up, and next to it a collection of videos, stats, as well as a separate pop up with Gryffindor Staff info. The team took in what they were seeing in stunned silence.

Remus. It was Loops. 

Sirius didn’t look away from the screen, afraid to make eye contact with anyone. 

“Uhh, is that Loops?” Dumo said with clear confusion on his face.

Kingsley continued on with his presentation as if not interrupted or impacted by the suddenly odd energy in the room. 

“Remus Lupin: age 25, so he would be on the older side as far as rookies go. Wisconsin Hockey starting left-winger from his freshmen year until Junior when he had a shoulder injury caused by a teammate causing him to be removed from the team and NHL Draft eligibility. A story I think you are all rather familiar with.”

Sirius looked around at everyone, mostly seeing faces of confusion still, and a few with understanding and excitement beginning to form. 

“What I think most of you are less familiar with, is what Lupin has been doing since then.”

“He’s been our PT Kings, we know. What are you leading up to?” Finn cut in.

“I’m getting there Mr. O’Hara. As you said, Lupin has been your PT since he was finishing up his last year of his Physical Therapy Masters, but I am not here to discuss his credentials in PT. I’m here to talk about Hockey.”

“Lupin was put on a strict PT and recovery program after his shoulder injury and regained most of his abilities within a year and a half after the injury. He says he has kept up with his PT since then, as well as various conditioning and weight training programs he put himself on as a PT.”

“Are you trying to sell us on Remus for the team? Cause he kind of kicked our asses a while ago if you remember, if you want him on the team we won’t fight. I would actually be thrilled,” Kasey said cutting off Kingsley once again. His point emphasized by nods and smiles from the other members.

Kingsley sure was taking his time with whatever his presentation included, and by now most of the team had caught on to what was happening. 

“I understand you think the entire explanation unnecessary due to your familiarity with Lupin, but it’s a unique situation and PR wanted you all to know the full story,” Coach explained. “I know it’s weird but it was deemed necessary.”

“How about I move on to some tapes,” Kingsley suggested, “These tapes are from Lupin’s junior year at Wisconsin, followed by some more recent tapes of Lupin running drills as part of PT.” 

The tapes began playing on the projector, ending the discussion, and captivating everyone in the room. They watched Remus skate smoothly around the entire of the opposing team, going fast than any player on the ice by far. He was yelling at his teammates as he skated by calling plays.

“I didn’t know Loops was captain,” James whispered, noticing the C stitched into his jersey.

The tape showed Remus calling for the puck before racing towards the goal, shooting it in before the goalie seemed to even process it. In the tape, Remus threw his head back and howled as his teammates swarmed him and the buzzer rang. 

“Moony! Moony! Moony!” was being chanted by the crowd before the tape cut.

Kingsley proceeded to play twelve other brief, but just as impressive, clips of Remus, commenting on different skills in each that the board and coaches felt would add to the team. 

Then more recent tapes began to play, these ones are clearly taken without Remus knowing as he skated through drills, just as fast and skillful as he had been in college. The hockey captain in Sirius immediately picked out not only his speed but also his control of the puck and balance as he skated. He was good; was still good. 

“Damn, when does he have time to skate like that?” Talker threw out. 

“Uhh, he comes here at five every morning. I always thought Moody had him organizing early or something until I saw the tapes,” Sirius confessed, “Turns out he was actually running drills for a couple of hours in the morning before he had to clock in. Been doing it for years according to Moody.”

“Cool, so what’s the hold-up? Should we vote on it? I think we are all good with Loops joining the team, as I’m sure you knew we would be.” Logan said clearly over, sitting in the meeting room. He probably wanted to go celebrate Loops. And probably make fun of him for the college team nickname they had just learned.

“Well, if none of you have objections, we will move forward with Lupin’s contract. Thank you for your time and input.” Kingsley said as he swept out of the room. 

The team all turned to look at Coach, silently asking him with grins stretched wide and excitement finally taking hold in their minds after the unnecessary long meeting. Honestly, while seeing Remus’s tapes was fun, did anyone really think they would object to Loops being on the team? 

Coach noticed the looks, and grinning back at them said “I believe Lupin is currently doing his regular drills on the rink if anyone wants to watch before conditioning starts.”

Before Coach had even finished his sentence, the team was racing out the doors towards the rink.

“Eh Moony! You think you’ll still howl when you get a goal even if we call ya Loops?” Talker shouted out at Remus who was, as predicted running early morning drills. Remus whipped around at the name looking shocked and mildly scared at all of them.

“I’m guessing they showed you the tapes then?” Remus yelled back as he skated over to them. 

“Oh yeah they did,” Logan replied laughing, “Can’t believe you’re the howler out of you and Cap.”

“Oh fuck off.”

[maddogofshimano]

The True Value of Treasure: Tanimura and Nair Scratcher Event

Spoilers for Nair’s substory in Y4

These two got another scratcher event! ...............................I have not put up a translation of their first one, I am just realizing, but it was a christmas themed one and was overall not super exciting

This one is also not super exciting, but I have the recap done without needing to go back and re-read things, so here we go. Once again this one will be summarized rather than line for line.

Summary: Nair has returned to Japan alongside the embassy of her home country to host a goodwill event for the people of Japan. There’s going to be a variety of events including a scratcher that will hand out treasure from her nation! She asks Tanimura to come along, but the day of the event the truck transporting the treasure is hijacked and it’s up to these two to get it back

Thanks to Tanimura's cooperation, the foe of the south east asian detective Nair and her family has finally been captured. It's been 1 year since then, it is now 2011. She has reason to return to Kamurocho.

Tanimura is finishing up some investigation and then will return, but says he's a little busy, since he plans to go play mahjong, like a true hardworking cop. 

Nair finds him on the street

Nair's here to help with a friendship event put on by the embassy. She explains that since the GG event was wrapped up she's found that Japanese people are very nice, including Tanimura, so she was happy to help. Nair considers it just returning the favor, and explains that the event's going to have traditional food and dancing, as well as a scratcher event that will have a prize of her country's "treasure". She thinks it'll be fun, and hopes Tanimura will come to it!

He says of course he'll go, but what exactly is this treasure? She says that it's a secret--tomorrow a truck will arrive with it, so he'll just have to be patient till then. Unfortunately, a goon overhears this

The next day, at the event

Tanimura asks what she's looking so worried about. Nair is fretting a little, the truck with the treasure is running late, and the event's about to start. The ambassador runs up in a panic--the truck with the treasure has been attacked! Thankfully the driver is unharmed, but the truck has been stolen

and here we see the thieves, a pack of goons

they're so excited they got their hands on this treasure! it sure was lucky they heard about it, now it's time to open it up and see what they got. They open the truck and........ out falls a bunch of fruit! Pineapples, mangoes, bananas...!? What the hell?

Cutting back to Nair and Tanimura, she's explained as much to him. Farmers offered up their fruit for the event, they're really important to the people of her country. Tanimura asks if the ambassador has called the police, and he has but they didn't seem to be in a huge rush to rescue fruit. Nair says there's only 2 hours until they event, they don't have time for the police to dillydally! She's going to go find the thieves and rescue the beautiful fruit so that people can enjoy them as intended! 

Tanimura talks her down from it--they need to approach this like police, and there's a lot of risk if she goes off on her own to chase down some truck without thinking it through. She agrees, but really wants to track it down. She and Tanimura reason through that they stole a big conspicuous truck and seemed to have pre-planned this, so they'd need somewhere to hide it. They can't drive it for a long distance without too great of risk of getting caught, so they must be somewhere nearby that is used for offloading trucks. That narrows down the number of locations, so they take off

Back with the goons, they want to know what the hell is up with the fruit. They're debating if they can sell them off for any decent money... And damn, Tanimura and Nair already found them!

Tanimura informs them that these are high quality fruit, they're sure to sell for a good price. The goons want to know who the hell they are, they introduce themselves as the cops and the goons panic

The biggest goon says not to worry, these two aren't going to use a gun, their career would be over! Tanimura wonders out loud if that's really going to stop him, and then the fighting begins!

<EVENT HAPPENS>

Tanimura and Nair beat the shit out of the goons that stole all the fruit, the police are on their way now. The cops arrive and confirm that yep, that's the number for the truck they're after, they'll handle the arresting part of this.

Goons want to know one thing before they get hauled off--they risked everything going after that truck cause that lady said it had treasure, but when they opened it up it was all fruit... what the hell? This shit is worthless. Nair looks a little sad. 

Tanimura steps in to say that these idiots just don't understand the value. They aren't just fruit. They were brought by Nair and the embassy to foster better relations, and that's the real treasure. Nair is touched. The cops haul the goons off. 

Tanimura asks if Nair's ready to bring this truck back to the event, she says yes and Tanimura offers to drive. Nair agrees, but asks him to be real careful driving them, it's a truck full of treasure after all. He laughs and says he'll be careful

<EVENT END>

Bonus time:

I was actually super slow on this one and had to watch the ending on youtube since the event had already gone away completely when I went to check lmao. we still don’t have a definitive answer on what country Nair’s from, which is kind of interesting

I can only hope we get some event set during december 2012 where Tanimura is doing something as low stakes as tracking down fruit as the explanation for why he didn't pick up the phone when called to go fight Amon

I hit my 900 day login bonus when the event ended. good god

The battle theme this time was Infinite Handcuff

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 07 part one

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Clan Sanren

Lanny Granny gets a second wind and continues her Yin Iron Webinar.

Wei Wuxian explains that although he was adopted by the Jiang Clan, Baoshan Sanren is his grandmaster, via his mom. Lan Yi claims to think that this is pretty great.

Lan Yi: Wow, amazing, my ex girlfriend who I dumped has settled down and started her own family Clan now, that’s so great. I’m so happy for her. So happy. So great. I mean, when I left I didn’t really picture her finding happiness first, you know? I kind of expected to have settled down myself by now but it’s hard to date when you’re trapped in an ice cave putting headbands on rabbits for 100 years. But it’s fine! I love my life and I’m sure eventually I’ll find that special rabbit person.  Anyway I’m just...SUPER happy for Baoshan. Really. Really happy. For Baoshan. 

Lan Wangji also appears to have thoughts about it, because he reacts pretty intently.

 Lan+Sanren 4EvR. 

Wang Yibo is looking extra fine in this cave sequence, with no headband to distract from his fierce eyebrows.  

Lan Wangji asks Lan Yi if she’s the one who pulled them into the cave, and she says nope, and then nobody ever explains how they ended up in the cave. “Perhaps it’s destiny” does not count as an explanation. 

Lan Gran explains that her battery is running down. The Lan bunnies are not energizer bunnies, apparently. She also tells them that it’s impossible to destroy the Yin Iron and that the only solution is to put it back in the cave and try to suppress it again. 

(more after the cut)

However by Episode 23 it inexplicably becomes super easy to destroy the Yin Iron...

...meaning Lan Yi spent 100 years in a cave for nothing, other than writing the Definitive Guide to Rabbit Headbands. 

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get back into Hardy Boys cultivator mode, but this time with an extremely long held gaze, which I think is their first time doing this.

I mean...even if these boys are 100% neurotypical (and hello, they are not), this is a LOT of eye contact. I can't gaze that long at anything except my phone screen. 

We Will Achieve The Thing Together

Narrator: they will not achieve the thing

The reason I got into c-drama in the first place is, after decades of western storytelling tropes, it’s so refreshing to watch a story and have literally no idea what’s going to happen. Even when the story sets things up to happen a certain way according to my learned experience of stories, it just doesn’t play out that way. For example, if you’re watching The Lost Tomb Reboot and you expected the jade-mining sequence to end with a slave uprising, you were as surprised as I was. 

Here Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian promise to do their best to find and suppress the Yin iron. Lan Wangji is going to fail at this, allowing this here piece to fall into the hands of the Wens, because unlike his uncle he's not willing to let his clan die to protect it.  

Wei Wuxian is going to take his not-doing-the-thing several steps further, finding and refining his very own piece of extra-badass Yin iron. Yes, he has reasons for this and a lot of stuff happens along the way, but in terms of your typical quest storyline, it would be as if Frodo figured out how to use the one ring to kick Sauron’s ass, rather than (with help) destroying it. Again: this is why I LIKE c-drama. 

Lan Wangji tries to shut Wei Wuxian out of his quest and Wei Wuxian makes a short but utterly character-defining speech. 

You can’t stop me

I know what’s right. 

And then he says that his Grandmaster Baoshan Sanren was isolated because of the Yin Iron, and he has a responsibility to her. Lan Yi agrees. So...he just kinda quit the Jiang Clan right there, didn’t he? In favor of eventually becoming a wandering cultivator like his Grandmaster and clan uncle (Xiao Xichen), and like his mother. 

He is also going to follow in his father’s footsteps by upsetting his Clan Leader when he falls in love. Gosh, he also, like his parents, will die and leave an orphan to fend for himself. So -- the apple doesn't fall far from the tree I guess.

He doesn't realize the pickle he’s getting himself into, of course. Being Wei Wuxian, he thinks he can balance all of his increasing obligations, but being human, he won’t be able to. 

Pardon Our Entwinement

Lan Yi leaves to catch the spiritual plane, the Yin iron drops, the ward breaks, and Wen Ning appears to download a new software update. The kind that breaks your video driver and photoshops your eyeballs.  

Wen Qing comes nosing around the cave wall, and Jiang Cheng stops by to ask what she’s up to. 

He hopes she’s trying to find his brother, just like he will fail to do for her & her brother one day.  

The boys fall out of the wall together, in a nice example of the “oops I’m accidentally humping you” c-drama romance trope. To keep it censor-friendly, Wei Wuxian is actually on the ground next to Lan Wangji’s right knee but the shot is framed so that at a glance he appears to be in a much cozier position. 

Lan Wangji goes on an expression journey don’t say facial through several “oh shit we’re caught” faces, while Wei Wuxian shows Lan Wangji a few iterations of his oh-face. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what the fuck they have been getting up to for a day and a night. 

The movie wasn't so hot, it didn't have much of a plot, we fell asleep our goose is cooked our reputation is shot

Wen Qing detects that they were somewhere cold and decides it’s her turn to ask nosy questions. Lan Wangji does the guilty startle thing. 

Fortunately Wei Wuxian doesn’t have that problem.

He turns his answer into a prolonged whine about how cold it was, how lost they were, etc. This annoys Jiang Cheng into dropping it and saying they should head back. 

I’m awesome right? so awesome right?

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Wangji a significant look to show that he’s deploying a rhetorical strategy on purpose to distract his questioner. Lan Wangji super does not know how to do that. 

Flute + Yin Iron = Profit

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get to watch as Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen tame the hunk of iron and stick it in the bag of holding. Wei Wuxian pays verrrryyy careful attention to this whole “use a flute to control the Yin iron” lesson. 

Lan Xichen really should reconsider his music-lessons side hustle. Arguably this one doesn’t turn out as badly for him personally as teaching guqin to Jin Guangyao does, but it doesn’t turn out great, either. 

知己啊  - zhi-ji-ah

This mostly-tedious Yin Iron conversation with the elders includes a super-important WangXian moment.

Wei Wuxian calls Lan Wangji his zhiji. This is the same word he will use later in the “what am I to you?” conversation during the Jin night hunt, and the word Lan Xichen will use when saying why Lan Wangji wouldn’t repudiate him during his forced isolation. As always, for the full meaning of this word, @hunxi-guilai​ is brills.

A Wen spy bird shows up, and Lan Wangji really wants to chase it, but Lan Xichen says no. 

This happens a lot, actually. Lan Wangji is not a cool-headed person, despite appearances.  Likewise the boys want to go searching for the Yin Iron and the adults want them to slow their roll. 

Being a teenager is frustrating, particularly with a classic “I didn’t actually listen to you before making a decision” adult like Lan Qiren in charge. 

Lying is my First Class Spiritual Tool

Nie Huasang shows up and has his usual hilariously varied reaction to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji - an enthusiastic “Wei-Xiong!” followed by a nervous & meek “Lan Er Gongzi” and a bow to Lan Wangji.  

He wants to know what happened and Wei Wuxian once again shows his powers of rhetoric. 

I like to call it my “devil snake.” 

He puts off all of Nie Huaisang’s potential questions by really knowing his questioner well and completely distracting him.  

This time Lan Wangji seems impressed. 

Jelly Jiang Cheng

Young Master Cockblock shows up and lets loose with a display of total naked jealousy. That carving on Wei Wuxian’s bed back in Lotus Pier...is that him and Jiang Cheng? Because damn, this boi is jealous. 

...and so is Lan Wangji, apparently, or at least he’s disappointed to have Wei Wuxian taken away from him like that.  

Yearn Mode Enabled

Club Ruohan’s Foyer

Wen Chao and Xue Yang stand awkwardly in Wen Ruohan’s vestibule talking to the boss through a giant door, because sure, why not. 

This doesn’t bother Xue Yang, who as usual has no fucks to give. Except that today, Wen Ruohan tells him that the budget for his project finally got approved, which lifts his spirits quite a bit. 

His project to single-handedly slaughter an entire clan, and he is super excited about the kickoff meeting. 

Wen Chao is mopey because his brother gets all the good murder assignments and his dad doesn’t appreciate him. Boo fucking hoo. 

Periodic reminder that He Peng looks like this when he’s not playing Wen Chao.

Part 2 coming soon!

Soundtrack: Wake Up, Little Susie by the Everly Brothers

Bonus

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 22

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: FLUFF! Inappropriate jokes! The team being a family of mother hens. Steve + WAP! Reader's old man fetish is ✨blossoming✨. Stephen is finally evolving from Grinch into a human being.

a/n: How do we feel about Wanda/Loki pairing? Loki is comparatively around Wanda's/Reader's/Pietro's age, e.g. he's a young adult. Also, new divider.

All three of us spilled out of the elevator in a flurry of wet hair, outrageously large shopping bags and the smell of autumn leaves and cinnamon-infused chocolate. Picture perfect friends - our arms were linked, we stood side to side, our bags mixed up. Loki's silky black hair was dripping cold water onto my face and my own clothes sticking to me in uncomfortable places.

It started pouring buckets when we got into my car to go back to the tower. Wanda complained about being hungry and after a brief detour in one of the hole-in-the-wall, hidden gem, French boulangeries, all three of us were pleasantly relaxed and companionable under the influence of hot chocolate and fresh, warm croissants (Loki ate, like, ten, royal manners be damned). The five minute run from the parking lot to the main entrance resulted in us being way too soaked to be comfortable - thankfully, the shopping bags seemed to be waterproof. Or, perhaps, Loki enchanted them somehow.

"Stop fucking cheating, Rogers..." Tony was grumbling in frustration, looking at an array of cards in his hands, squinting suspiciously at a smug Steve.

Noticing us, the room perked up immediately. Thor lifted his head and we saw him and Pietro splayed out on the couch, each male holding a play station controller. Stephen Strange was sat cross-legged on the floor, reading a book, while Natasha filed her nails next to him, a face of tranquility and indifference.

We almost backpedaled from the amount of puppy eyes suddenly gazing at us.

"Sup?" I decided to go first, seeing as both of my companions were still mostly confused. What the hell, I was equally perplexed.

"How was your day, brother?" and "Got yourself a nice dress?" and "Marchesa? Not bad." Were the most intelligible words I could make out of the cacophony that descended upon us.

And it suddenly downed on me. Neither Wanda nor Loki had previously left for the city on their own. Their siblings were worried. I sighed, concealing my happiness behind a quiet complaint of being cold and wet. My bags were picked up by Thor who abandoned his game in favour of greeting his brother with a hug. Surprisingly, Loki didn't refuse and let Thor embrace him and relieve us of our items to deposit them out of the way.

"Cold," Wanda whined, stripping off her damp sweater to reveal simple black leggings and tee underneath.

"Wet," Loki mumbled, gathering a ball of green magic to dry out his dripping hair.

"Gross," I said, walking straight into Tony's open arms. He didn't say anything, just indicated my place was in his lap, squeaking and shivering as soon as I reached my destination.

"Baby girl, you're gonna get sick. Let's go take a bath," He unsuccessfully attempted to lift my limp body. I groaned in protest, dead on my feet. It felt like I had walked a thousand miles. Wasn't gonna remove myself from a warm, soft Tony.

"I'm dead, like, I'm a zombie. If you move me, I'll eat that sexy brain of yours," I threatened fitfully.

"Well, at least change out of these clothes. You're dripping me in gross, polluted rain water," The engineer laughed.

"Lazy," I replied, nestling myself closer to his warmth. He tugged on my clothes, wrestling me out of the top layers, leaving me shivering like a newborn kitten across his lap. His eyes darted across the room - evidently, he was looking for some sort of a hoodie as he wasn't wearing one at the time. Tony knew how much I loved those and always kept one in his vicinity. Thoughtful, lovely Tony.

"Have you seen my MIT sweatshirt?" He asked and everyone replied negative. Tony frowned.

"Here, have mine," Strange stood up, unzipping and handing me his own plain grey one. "I'll make some herbal tea for the girls least they actually get sick." With that, the grumpy doctor walked off into the kitchen. I watched his broad back retreat with renewed interest. Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave...

One warm hoodie and hot tea later, I was feeling less like a drowned cat and more like the fabulous human being that I was. Wanda had told everyone about her two cute new dresses without actually revealing the idea behind her costume. Somehow all of us silently agreed to surprise each other after I pulled my stunt on Stephen.

Strange didn't seem to be mad at me; his presence was amiable and delightful. He made usual small talk and we engaged in a brief, friendly battle of the wits and he and Tony managed to not piss off each other too much. Loki and Wanda hung nearby, and we chatted, too, mostly about less popular but very cool movies the three of us could watch... Yeah, so we were arranging a sleepover. Bite me.

"So, everyone ready for the party?" Clint was all but bouncing in his seat. "Me and Sammy-boy, we'll have the coolest costumes!" He exclaimed, smirking in Tony and Bruce's direction. Something was coming, something great, from my two boys. I could sense it. Natasha probably knew and tattled to Clint already. The bird bros fist-bumped with an obnoxious cheer.

I was feeling drowsy. The tea Strange made had something calming in it. My usual energetic spirit was gone, replaced by a mellow sort of mood. Plus, my feet hurt from all the walking. I moaned in distaste, flexing my toes.

"I disagree," Wanda shared a secretive smile with Loki and me.

Apparently, my discomfort was quite obvious. It took only another quiet, pitiful groan from me for Bruce to scoot closer, remove my socks and tenderly knead the arch of my foot. He smiled at me, soft and gentle, pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft, painful spots.

"Yeah, Pigeon, no amount of make-up will help that ugly mug," Tony declared with a wave of his hand.

"Tony!" Sam defended his bird bro, tossing a pillow at the engineer and missing me by barely an inch.

"You don't need any make-up, bird. You need plastic surgery." I jumped on the bully Clint bandwagon for the lolz. He was actually quite handsome, but his reactions always were fucking priceless. All of us occasionally ruffled his feathers but never to an actually hurtful extent.

"Not gonna lie, that one hurt." Barton huffed, crossing his arms.

Meanwhile, Bruce had moved onto my other foot. I had to hold in a bunch of very lewd, inappropriate noises. Tony was grinning above me, not at all affected by me squirming around. Banner grinned back at the engineer. They were definitely plotting something.

That just wouldn't do, I decided. Time to throw Rick and Morty off their course a little. I stretched leisurely, allowing the hem of my borrowed hoodie to lift, exposing an inch too much of skin than strictly appropriate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve's arched eyebrow and the small secretive smirk he hid behind a cup of tea. The Captain wasn't as virtuous as the others thought and he definitely was onto me.

Bruce still wreaked havoc on my vestibular system by doing some magical voodoo shit to my toes and traded suspicious grins with Tony who radiated an unfair amount of smugness.

"Oh my God," I stretched with a moan of contentment. "Fucking rail me." I might have used this particular choice of words on purpose. The Avengers that memed with me knew the actual meaning but they were in the minority. Most, including Tony and Bruce, gasped in shock at my choice of words. I grinned innocently. "What?"

"We don't use that kind of language around here!" Steve exclaimed, barely hiding a full-fledged laugh behind his cup.

"Cap, a lot has changed in the past seventy years, if you didn't notice," Barton rolled his eyes. "Women are allowed to express themselves now."

"Men think it's pretty hot, actually," Tony remarked, giving me one of his positively mischievous smiles, gently stroking my cheek and dipping his index finger under the hem of my top, following the lines of my collarbone. "It's just that Cap got left out in the cold."

"Very funny, Tony," Steve groaned as the rest of the group laughed. "We don't need a repeat of the WAP incident."

I choked on my breath. "The WHAT incident?!"

Laughter drowned out Steve's stuttering explanation as the supersoldier blushed, possibly, the most saturated shade of scarlet I'd ever seen on a human's face. I had to stop Bruce from continuing to make my limbs into Jell-O, wanting to hear the full story clearly. Anything that warranted such a strong reaction from Steve was bound to be, like, equal parts extremely embarrassing and hilarious. Bucky was laughing up a storm, a tell-tale sign of him having taken direct actions to ensure Steve would be as confused and ashamed as possible.

"Steve caught Peter listening to the song and asked him about it. Peter refused to answer at first, so Bucky decided to mess with Steve a bit," Pietro began explaining. "So Bucky goes: WAP stands for wasted academic potential. Steve sits on it a couple of days, believing his boyfriend like the naïve old man he is," Pietro was gesturing vividly, arms flailing, as the Captain buried his face in his hands. "Lo and behold, Steve had to give a Captain America speech at some sort of school for delinquent children. And at the end of it all - Natasha has that bit on video, by the way - he gives his stern Captain look and goes "WAP is no joke!"!" The speedster laughed out loud along with everybody.

I was howling at that point, staring at Steve. Did the old man realize all the answers to his questions were a simple Google search away? "NO, he didn't, oh my God," I wheezed, suddenly having realized where it was going.

"He totally did!" Clint continued, giving Pietro a fond look and a chance to catch his breath. "The whole student population was laughing, tears rolling down their faces, as the principal started angrily ranting right in Steve's face. And he was just so, so-o confused. Man, his face..." Clint shook his head. "He left so freaking red in the face I thought he was going to have a heart attack. The students had started singing the song, the uncensored version - mind you - at some point and Steve just progressively got redder and redder."

"I'm seventy percent Irish, I can't help it!" Steve cried in his own defense, the famous blush on full display, but laughing nonetheless as he clutched onto his left boob for dear life.

"And one hundred percent dumbass!" Bucky clapped his boyfriend on the shoulder.

I nodded along, me and Tony a howling pile of limbs. The engineer himself was holding onto me for dear life, too winded to make any of his usual snarky commentary regarding Steve's epic failure. "Pure of heart, dumb of ass," I wheezed out my sudden realization.

"Shit, I'm getting that on a t-shirt," Tony sent himself into another cackle fest. "That's brilliant, Princess."

Bucky nodded along, "I'm buying one for this punk." He pointed at Steve, poking him in the right pec.

"Jerk," Steve's gaze was annoyed but fond as he gently shoved his boyfriend before placing a gentle kiss atop his head. Old people in love, so adorable.

"May I request one for my brother as well?" Loki interjected, eyebrow raised, eyeing Thor trying to pry open a carton of ice cream and failing to notice the little plastic lid covering the top part of it. The blonde was utterly oblivious both to his brother and to the chaos around him, set on his quest for salted caramel pecan creamy goodness. I couldn't say I didn't see the appeal...

"What did you call - himbos?" Stephen eyed me curiously, pointing to Thor and Steve with a shaky hand.

I nodded in response. "Harmless, loveable, kind, beefy and utter dumbasses," I pointed out the main characteristics. "I love himbos."

"You said my brain was sexy," Tony pouted, pressing me closer to him and in turn, making my legs wrap around Bruce in a funny way that brought all three of us in a weird sandwich hug. I must've died and gone to heaven once again. "This is bullshit," And Tony fuckin' bit me. The bastard sunk his teeth into my shoulder strong enough to leave a mark.

"I love big, fat brains. Unf," My attempt at a salacious voice only made people laugh. "No PhD, no pussy. I don't make the rules," I snorted loudly.

"You and your old man kink," Wanda chuckled good-naturedly, casting me a knowing glance over the tops of her friends' heads.

"Yes," I agreed solemnly, pulling Tony in for a kiss without an ounce of shame or reservation, catching Stephen's amused face meeting my eyes for a brief second, his eyebrow raised meaningfully. Looked like someone took my comment a little close to heart. Nobody really batted an eye at Bruce being in the middle of our cuddle puddle so if I had to guess, Stephen Strange was at least interested... Or was he silently judging me?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[kindofinprogress]

“Gin?”

“Yeah?”

Ginny turned to Harry facing away from the full night's sky she’d just been admiring. It was in that moment that she realized they had veered off the path and were no longer walking toward the burrow. That was strange. They’d taken this identical walk for almost two weeks running… She stilled.

“Gin..”

Oh. It was time. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? They were finally going to acknowledge the exact thing they’d both been making every effort to ignore. Effort. That’s the right word. Effort. Because it wasn’t easy not breaking down and telling him everything she needed to. In fact it threatened to spill out of her everytime she directed any words to him. She wondered if it was the same for him; If that’s why they’d been communicating in one-word sentences and shared looks, because it was just as hard for him to keep it all in and not rupture the bubble they’d been encased in since the battle three weeks ago. 

Three weeks ago they’d all been rushed off back to Auntie Muriel’s a few hours after the battle that ended it all. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived by portkey outside Molly had run out to greet them with Charlie rushed out after her and stepping in between them all aggressively pointed his wand at Ron “What did I do to get the twins back for turning your teddy bear into a spider?”. A question about a childhood story between two of her brothers should not have sounded that sinister. Ginny hadn’t even registered the answer but Charlie must have found it acceptable because next he ran toward Ron to encase him in a hug. In the same breath Harry made eye contact with Ginny and ran to her. She was in his arms before she knew what was happening. “Thank Merlin. Thank Merlin. I was so..” he sobbed into her neck “I know. I know.” is all she could say back. 

Two weeks ago they’d held Fred’s funeral in the farthest corner of the property. Ginny sat through the entire thing in a daze. Completely silent and still. Keeping her hands busy by encasing her mothers in her own. It wasn’t until Harry put his arm around her that she realized people were getting up to leave and that it was over. That it’s. Her brother was in the ground, the headstone had been engraved. “Just wait” Harry whispered in her ear, putting pressure on his arm to keep her down when she made to get up too. When everyone had made their way up the hill toward the house Harry helped her up and led her to the grave. A sob broke out of her so suddenly she surprised herself with the noise. They stood there long enough- Harry holding her and swaying in place while she cried- that her legs became heavy underneath her. An insurmountable jumble of thoughts swam through her head then. Among them Ginny found enough time to contemplate how Harry had known exactly the right time and space she needed to mourn her brother. Of course he’d known though. Mixed up in her own thoughts she had allowed him to lead her back to the house and he didn’t leave her side for the rest of the night. 

And really he’d continue to offer that same comfort to her anytime they were in the same room together since. Ever present at her side- always willing to lend a hug, a kiss on the forehead or a squeeze of her hand just when she needed it. 

But now all of those comforting moments and heavy silences were coming crashing down on her. 

“Oh…. When?”

“Huh?”

“When?” she manages to get out louder this time. “When are you leaving?”

“Oh.. Oh Ginny you thought… Ginny, no. No.” 

Harry wiped away her tears -when had those gotten there?- and enveloped her in a hug in one swoop. Her head spun. She let out a shaky breath. She was so sure. It felt enough like last time. 

“What? I just thought- you’ve been whispering with Ron and Hermione again with your heads all together in that annoying way you three do that lets everyone know you have a secret but you’re not sharing with anyone else and you’ve been having all these long mysterious meetings with Kingsley-”

“Ginny. No. No. That’s not what I wanted to… but I can explain if you- I can’t tell you what… it’s not that I don’t want to it’sjustnotmineto.” He pressed his lips into a thin line at that. “But with Kinglsey. I can. I can. I can and I will, I’ll tell you it all but that’s really not what I meant to…”

Ginny sighed deeply and removed herself from him then. She gave him a seething look and turned on her heels toward the burrow. 

Harry grabbed her wrist in two steps and stopped her.

“Ginny, wait. I’m sorry. I mucked that up quicker than I thought possible. Please… come hear me out okay?” 

How could she ever deny such a pleading look on his wonderful face? She slid her hand into his and nodded her head. After all, she wasn’t really mad. She wouldn’t have really left. Not now. Not when she needed the bubble to burst. When she missed him, even still after having him basically glued to her hip for the past three weeks. She missed him. The closeness they’d had the last few weeks seemed more out of survival than anything. She didn’t mind it though- she’d become so used to sharing her personal space with him in her fifth year that this felt as natural as breathing. Having had that closeness ripped out from under her after Dumbledore’s funeral nearly a year ago had rocked her world more than she had expected it would and it had been so nice to have it back. Her eldest brothers may have grimaced at their closeness on the couch a time or two but otherwise it’d gone unmentioned. And she was thankful. Because it was easier to breathe near him- knowing exactly where he was and not spending every half hour wondering if he was alive or not like she’d gotten accustomed to over the last year. She could admit that she needed more though. Maybe he did too. She hardly dared to hope- part of her had convinced herself that he’d only been keeping her company because Ron and Hermione were finally (Godric, finally, it only took a bloody war) together and he didn’t want to be a third wheel. 

“Can we sit?”

They’d reached the small deck near the pond. 

Harry sat and Ginny stayed standing staring out at the water. 

“Okay then.” Harry said as he (begrudgingly) stood up to meet her. 

He reached for her arm but she leaned away just in time. She wasn’t mad but she still wasn’t sure where this was going. It still felt so heavy even after knowing he wasn’t leaving. Right? That’s what he’d meant earlier? Before she could get the question out fully he’d already started talking 

“You’re not-”

“There’s a lot I owe you-”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Ginny shook her head. This was frustrating. She just wanted to get whatever this was over with. Why was this so hard?

“No. Go on.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath.  “Look, you deserve an explanation. What happened after the wedding, where I’ve been the last nine months, what happened in the forest-” she winced at that. Tears flooded her eyes and she wanted him to stop. “-no. No. Please don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Not yet.” 

“Ginny..” he grabbed for her hand and she let him hold it this time but budged no further when he tried pulling her in for another one of his suffocating embraces. This all became too much too quick.

“I’m sorry. Again. Damn. I didn’t mean now. I’m sorry. I don’t… we don’t need to talk about it right now. But you deserve to know. And I’m telling you you deserve it. And I want to tell you all of it. There’s no one else who would understand… Listen. That’s besides the point. I’m trying to tell you I’m here. When you want to know all you need to do is ask. You can have any answer you want. I just needed you to know that. And I know I’m not the only one who went through hell this year. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you… you know, anyway you want me to be. I know we haven’t really spoken about anything-including us. And I never expected to come back and for it all to just pick up as if nothing happened but you’ve allowed me to be-” 

And suddenly she was hugging him with such fierceness it took the breath out of him. Losing his train of thought Harry returned her affection and they let the silence envelop them again. He kissed her forehead so softly she thought she imagined it for a second. 

She cleared her throat and took a step back 

“So… I can ask anything?”

“Of course”

“You’re really not leaving? Those meetings with Kingsley.. I really thought..”

She wasn’t being dramatic. Since the funeral Harry had met almost daily with Kingsley in various locations. Sometimes Ron and Hermione went with him, other times he left alone, and Kingsley would even come around and have hurried hushed conversations with him so frequently after the first two days of it Ginny knew to excuse herself when the second she saw him enter a room. 

“I’ve been helping him with information I have on some of the Death Eaters. That’s all.” 

He took a heavy breath. And she waited. Because she knew Harry and that wasn’t “all”. 

“Okay- that’s not all.”

Aha. 

“Kingsley, he… he offered me and Ron positions as Aurors. Well, Hermione too but she declined on the spot.”

“She declined? So you’ve accepted then? And Ron? You two go traipsing around England for nine months being sought after as trophies and you’re about to run back into the thick of it?”

“It’s not that simple-”

“Yes, it is. You’ve done enough. You’ve. Done. Enough!” She was angry now. Practically spitting every word out. 

“Ginny.” He said her name in a tone so serious and so starkly different from the rest of the night it made her stop on the spot

“Gin-” He started calmer “I haven’t decided. Neither has Ron, not really- he says it’s up to me. Says he’ll do it with me ‘if I want’. Honestly though? I think he’s rather into the idea of it -a job as an auror and he wouldn’t even have to take any NEWTS. It’s practically a dream for him.”

“And for you? Is it for you? Is this what you want?”

“I want to put a stop to this once and for all. It wasn’t just Riddle you know? It didn’t end with him; I know everyone’s acting like it did. But you and I both know that it’s not that simple. He had followers, Ginny, droves of them. And they’ll come back swinging if I let them.”

“Why is it up to you?”

“It’s not- but I- I won’t feel done unless I’m helping.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But listen, Gin. I haven’t given him an answer. I need to know… I won’t do this if it means I can’t have you. This. Us. I came back for this.”  He was holding her arms by either side and looking right into her eyes now. “None of it would mean anything if I missed out on you more than I’ve already had to. Listen I know. I know I’m the one who left but I meant it, Gin, I meant it when I said I was ending it because I care about you. So much. Please believe that. It’s.. it’s possible now. I.. I have a future. And I want you in it. I mean that.” 

“Harry, I… could you do it? Could you have both?”

“What?”

“Harry, I meant what I said that day too. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. I had to let you go then. And I know you won’t be happy unless you do this now. But what makes this different? There will still be bad guys after you as an auror you know? You’ll always be the Chosen One to them. A challenge.”

He sat with the weight of the truth of it all for a minute. But his mind was made up only a second after looking into her eyes again. 

“I won’t do it then. It’s not worth it”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t.” sigh “Look, you said you wouldn’t do it if it meant you can’t have me… but I haven’t said that. I’m yours. I think I always have been. I’ll be yours whatever you decide just… I can’t have you running off and being noble and leaving me for my own good or whatever it is you thought you were doing before. I can’t ask you not to do this. Not when I know what it means to you. But can you do it? Can you have both?”

“Yes. I can. I know why I want to do this, Ginny. Because it didn’t all end with him. I’ve said that. But his blasted followers aren’t enough to keep me away from you. I want this. I won’t let it get in the way… Never again, Ginny… Please?” 

There it was again. The pleading. And of course she couldn’t turn him down. Ginny did the only thing she could do then and kissed him. Their first real kiss since last summer. It was comforting, enticing, and inviting all at once. 

Harry hummed in pleasure as he broke the kiss and connected their foreheads. 

“So... mine huh?” 

[rosecoloredbi-writes]

When the Spark Came Back

Summary: Y/N and Steve dating in high school until suddenly, they weren't. Steve had pushed Y/N away with no explanation. Years later, Y/N finds Steve on stage playing with his band and gathers the nerve to take a step towards healing.

A/N: there is a part 2 to this that I'll be posting momentarily.

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing? Mentions of parents divorce and kicking their kid out, I think that's it.

It had been too long since you had seen him. You think of the time that has passed by cruelly. Back then you had all been so full of life, so excited for the future, and now, here you were: a jaded 25 year old just looking for relief. College had been good to you, you grew into your own person instead of staying on the steady path of who everyone else had wanted you to be. You opened your arms to adventures rather than shrink from them. You put what you wanted first, and loved yourself first.

The thing that was cruel about time is that now, you no longer felt that excitement about life. Instead you dreaded facing the next day and drug your feet around.

But everything was different around him.

The steady beat of the bass filled your senses. The vibration practically waking you up from the awful nightmare life had been. Then you saw him, and your heart finally felt less heavy. He began strumming his guitar easily and you started singing along. Then you felt the warm glow in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as the memories started flooding back.

He had been your first love. In high school he was popular. Everyone loved him or was jealous of him. Eventually, a new boy moved to town and dethroned him of his title of King of Hawkins. He chilled out then. Became more down to earth, and that is when you really began to notice him. He hung out with kids around your sister’s age and could be found driving them to the arcade or bowling or every once in a while he would take them out one on one to get ice cream. He was more tender than he ever allowed himself to be.

To your surprise, he had begun to notice you too. He noticed the way you would shyly smile at him anytime he caught your eye. The way your eyes would light up when you got passionate in classes, and eventually on dates. He noticed everything and was quickly smitten.

The lead singer asked the crowd how they were doing, and the erupting cries brought you back into the present. He was just as lovely now as he ever had been. He had grown out of some of his boyish features, but his eyes still shined with childlike innocence. He still had his long wavy hair that he would run his hands through when they weren’t busy attending to the guitar strings and gripping the neck of his guitar.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the music, but as the concert came to an end you were filled with anxiety. Coming here had been a terrible decision. What if he had forgotten about you? What if that flame you still secretly held had fizzled out over the years apart? You knew that was a huge possibility, but your heart still silently thumped in hope that maybe, just maybe he still felt the same. Even though he had hurt you there had to be a reason, right? You don’t go from being absolutely in love to not overnight.. right?

Your feet carried you to the merch table where the band was hanging out, talking to fans and signing shirts and vinyls, and taking photos. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you heard your voice call out to him.

“Steve?” you yelled a little more than you asked. You closed your eyes for the briefest of moments and took in a deep inhale. When you opened your eyes, his were glued to you.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” he asked as he closed the large gap between the two of you.

“Ha, yeah, it’s me…” you answered, playing with your hair to give your hands something to do. “Uh, hi.” you smiled shyly up at him and suddenly you were both back in high school.

“Hey! Hi. Uh, you are Y/N, right?” Steve asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

“Yeah… do you need something?” you asked. That would be the only obvious reason Steve Harrington would ever talk to you. Maybe he needed notes from a class or something.

“Actually yes,” he said smiling, “I am in desperate need of your number.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock, but you nodded, knowing words were not going to help you at the moment. You grabbed a pen from your bookbag and quickly wrote down your phone number on his hand, double-checking it to make sure you wrote it down correctly in your fuzzy state.

You hadn’t noticed then, but Steve blushed at the contact of your hands and he swore he had fallen in love with you right then and there.

Steve wrapped his arms around you in a soul-crushing hug that you wished could have lasted forever. Much to your disdain, you were the one to pull back, looking over him all sweaty and still pumped from playing with his band. When your eyes met his, you realized he had been staring too.

“Do you want to get some food once I am done here?” he asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

You nodded, “I can wait over there?” you said pointing to a few benches, “Take your time, I don’t mind.”

Steve pulled you into another hug before you walked over and sat down.

You watched him interact with fans, and couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies anytime he looked at you. You busied yourself staring at your hands and picking carefully at your nails, an anxious habit you had. You smoothed out the black, denim mini skirt you were wearing a few times and retucked your t-shirt until you were satisfied with how it looked and cleaned your glasses. Finding anything to help keep your nerves down.

Finally, you felt a hand on your knee and looked over to find Steve kneeling in front of you, smiling up at you, just like he would in high school.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help you up.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up before answering, “Hell yes I am ready.”

You both decided it would be best if you drove since the vehicle Steve had access to was the band’s tour van. So there you were, driving down the street to your favorite diner. It was still hard to think straight, him being so close to you, but you managed to drive safely in your dad’s old VW Bug. Once the car was parked and you were both out of the car, instinct took over and you grabbed his hand, leading him inside to your favorite booth near the kitchen.

After you had both sat there awkwardly staring at the menu for far too long and the food got there, the conversation started flowing freely. You guys talked about what you’ve been up to, college for you, the band for him. How your families were, how you handled the death of your father. You found out that Steve had gotten a dog, which had been his dream since he was younger, but never could because his parents weren’t around long enough for him to ever bring it up.

“Okay, Steve… I have to ask. What happened?” Your eyebrows drew up, worried about the answer you may get. “I mean… What happened to us? Did you not love me anymore? Was there someone else? I have just been so confused all these years. I haven’t been able to get over you because you never gave me closure.”

Steve thought long and hard before answering and stared long and hard at the mostly eaten burger in front of him. Steve looked like he was going to open his mouth, but stopped for a moment. Instead, he looked you in the eyes before reaching to grab your hand. Something that had always been comforting to you.

“After we graduated, I seriously felt like there was nothing we couldn’t do. That it would always just be me and you and we could take on the world. Then, my parents were home for a while if you remember. They had seemed like they were closer than ever, and I was so happy. I had my parents and I had you and we were no longer stuck in high school. Then, I watched as my parent’s marriage fell apart… and it shook me. It really should not have been a surprise, they generally acted like things were wonderful and they were happy before shit hit the fan. But this shit was permanent. They announced their impending divorce and that I should look at moving into my own place. I just… I couldn’t handle it. I mean, we had been looking at places to move into together, but this made me feel like I was being kicked out of my family. That my family didn’t really exist anymore.” Steve took his hand back for a moment and ran them through his hair a couple of times.

“Y/N, I felt like I had nothing. I know I had you, but the only way I knew how to cope with things was to push everything and everyone as far away as possible. I have regretted not saying goodbye to you every single day since and it has torn me apart. I so wish I could have explained everything to you, and maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are now.” Again he looked at you intensely, but his eyes were soft, before continuing.

“If you need to get over me, I understand. I was so, so selfish 7 years ago. But I also need you to know that I am still in love with you. Seeing you today, it was almost like the lights had come back on. I have been living in the darkness I didn’t know about until today and I will be damned if I don’t say something. Just… please think about it? I know so much time has passed and we are probably so different than we were, but I would be so honored to get to know you again.”

It looked as if tears were welling up in his eyes that he was willing to not spill over.

“Steve, you really hurt me. I need you to understand that one day we were attached at the hip and just, so enthralled with each other, and the next, you were gone. It was almost like you had died in the middle of the night. If you were to leave me again like that, I honestly think it would break me into pieces that could not be mended.”

You took a deep breath, soaking in everything, including the way your eyes began to fill with tears and even let them spill over onto your cheeks, finally getting the relief you have needed for so long. You dabbed at your face with a napkin and looked back up at Steve, who sat there utterly heartbroken at seeing the hurt spill out from you.

After another deep breath, you finished your thoughts.

“I would love to get to know you again too, Steve Harrington.”

[acid-hydrangea]

Three Years in Heaven

A few small glimpses at the winding, unending days of a certain boy.

(Includes post-story spoilers for both TWEWY games in their entireties, as this takes place between both periods.)

(AO3 Crosspost)

Night 1

It's dark.

So dark, he can hardly see his own hand in front of him.

He feels something.

Not by touch, no.

Someone silent

Yet that presence, their aura

It's so familiar,

It speaks one thousand words,

Nondescript, vague and cluttered,

Looping, repeating, silently, yet loudly,

Except for a few that ring out,

"How was your first Day back in the Underground, Neku?"

"... Josh?!"

Neku’s first cry, it's full of relief, shock, words caught in his throat finally let out of the cage in his throat,

"Josh... You..."

His voice rises, he clenches his fist, he's finally back on his two feet,

"Where the hell am I?! Why am I back in the UG again?! Did you..."

Neku crumbles, just a bit, hand over his chest, where his non-beating heart is,

"For the third time..."

"Did I kill you? Well, isn't that the question of the decade."

Neku yells once more, wishing for nothing more than to be heard, and for once, to have his questions answered,

"Don't fucking screw with me! Just give me an answer...!"

He seriously feels like he's at his last straw. Joshua's unconcerned nonchalance was going to be the death of him.

"... What a way to thank your savior." Joshua pouts. "That twisted Reaper had excruciating plans for you, you know."

"... Huh? That Reaper... Coco? What about her?"

"She killed you, sought to drag you to the Underground once more, to..."

Joshua held his arms out, gesturing to the absolute nothingness that surrounded them,

"Save the lost city of Shinjuku."

Neku doesn't even have time to process the fact that Coco killed him. It's not information he wanted to digest, right now.

"This is... Shinjuku? What the hell happened??"

"An Inversion." Joshua states, rather matter-of-factly.

Neku stutters, thoroughly confused. "A what, now...?"

"It's when the RG and UG collapse into each other, and cease to function entirely." Joshua sighs, twirling his hair curl between his fingers. "Much like if you were being choked. Your throat closes up, and you'd stop breathing. If prolonged, you could pass out, or die. It's like that, Neku."

Neku instinctively backed away, holding his hands over his neck, as if fearing Joshua would try to demonstrate.

It didn't help that Joshua was wearing the smallest of twisted smirks during the latter half of his explanation.

Perhaps Joshua just enjoys morbid discussions. That's none of Neku's business.

Joshua rolls his eyes, as if put off by how scared Neku is.

"... You should feel grateful I saved you, for the record. The job I have in store for you is a lot less painful."

Neku was still on the defensive. "...Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

"To discover the very reason why an Inversion took place here."

"...You wanna tell me more, Private Dick Extraordinaire?"

"If I had more to say, I would have told you."

"I don't buy it."

"Well, isn't that a shame... Because you can't leave until you've figured it out."

If Neku addresses that, he knows he won't get meaningful answers. He doesn't even know if Joshua will stick around for long. He chooses his words carefully...

"I've seen what's left of Shinjuku. There's nothing here. How do you expect me to find any--"

"Make it work, Neku. We haven't got all day. How about you try to listen more closely?"

And just like that, the second Day begins.

Neku decides it's another day of endless wandering, once more, trying to listen to the absolute silence that he now knows is Shinjuku, Post-Inversion.

Night 7

It's been a whole week. 7 Days.

Joshua has yet to make another appearance, ever since that first Night.

Very little has changed, but Neku's grown a bit smarter. Learned a little more. Opening his mind to Shinjuku, bit by bit.

As his eyes close and the current Day ends, he has a familiar feeling he knows who to expect.

Joshua slowly claps, "I must say, you've really outdone yourself, Neku."

"Put a sock in it..." Neku crosses his arms. "I've barely picked up on anything."

"Care to share your discoveries with your beloved Partner?"

"What, you can't look around yourself?"

"I cannot so freely come and go from Shibuya like you, Neku." The look in Joshua's eyes turns a bit serious. "Even I have my harrowing responsibilities."

"... Is something happening in Shibuya?"

"Nothing for you to worry yourself over."

"Is something happening in Shibuya, or not?!" Neku steps towards him, three seconds away from grabbing the collar of his shirt, "Just because I'm not there doesn't mean I can't worry." There's a mix of anger and concern in Neku's tired eyes.

"How about an exchange of information, then?" Joshua twirls his pointed finger at Neku, pushing him out of his personal bubble. "Starting with that briefing you keep putting off."

"... Fine." Neku rubs the back of his head. "Like I said, it's barely anything... But I don't think the people of Shinjuku knew it was coming. It was like it surprised them all at once."

Joshua tilts his head. "... And?"

"That's it. I told you it wasn't much..." Neku reiterates, sincerely hoping Joshua doesn’t ask him for something he doesn’t have.

"No, I think..." Joshua rubs his chin, pondering. "That's enough, for now."

"Tell me about Shibuya, then. What's happening?"

"A handful of Shinjuku Reapers are taking refuge there. Our current Game Master has decided to allow them that mercy."

"... You seem bothered by the fact."

"My, my, you're getting much better at reading people, too." Joshua shoots him his trademark grin. "I have my suspicions that they partook in enacting their own city's downfall."

"Huh...?" Neku's bewilderment was apparent on his face. "Why would they want to tear down their own city?"

"Like I said, it's just a thought. How could it be that they are the only survivors, after all?"

Neku, too, began pondering this... Not that he really knew, though. This is Joshua he's talking to. Those Shinjuku Reapers could be totally innocent, and Neku wouldn't know,

“You’re the Composer, aren’t you? Why not kick them out if they pose a threat?” Despite his own thoughts, Neku figured Joshua would’ve taken more precaution--

“It’d be dangerous to let them out of my sight if they are responsible.”

Frankly, Neku had no argument against that. Joshua was right. Even so...

Neku's voice goes a bit quiet. "... Maybe something else caused the Inversion, though..."

"Hm, you think so?" Joshua snaps his fingers. "Go on, uncover more proof to back that theory up, then."

Neku's eyes shot open to the same, dreary sights as always.

It's sudden, but the eighth Day has begun.

Night 8

Neku had a very rare, very special, very horrific encounter against Noise.

He wasn't exactly prepared for a fight, but...

He had a few Pins on hand, luckily, it was enough to take it out.

He was surprised his psyches work as well as they do, given he's on his own. That's the least of his concerns right now, though.

Larger than most, it took all the longer to take down. Its attacks were also far more brutal, leaving every cut burning. After the Noise was felled, Neku felt revitalized,

but no, none of those were the concerning parts to be dealt with.

It almost felt like it was an amalgamation of human Soul and Noise matter that he was fighting.

Their thoughts were loud, so, so loud, forming words, sentences, phrases.

The cries, shouts, and whimpers it exuded all sounded incredibly human.

"No, don't hurt me! I mean no harm!"

"Go away! Get away from me!"

"What did I ever do to you...?"

"What... Where am I... What's happening?!"

"It hurts, it hurts!! Mama!!!"

"What are you doing to him?!"

Yet, they wouldn't stop.

They kept trying to hurt him.

Neku wasn't about to lay his life down, but...

He felt damn close to it.

The revitalizing energy that enveloped him after their defeat, it felt bittersweet.

He falls to his knees, collapsed, exhausted.

There are thoughts lingering, from all that it used to be. They sit there, as if waiting,

But Neku can't muster the will to do anything, right now.

His eyes shut on their own, refusing to perceive himself, or anything around him.

Neku wanted nothing more than to disappear, just like them.

The eighth Day is over.

Joshua looks forward, at the wisps of what once was a catastrophic bundle of Noise,

"Quite the curious entity that was, mm?"

Neku has no words. Nothing to say, to think, to... be.

The vacant, scared expression on his face... Joshua found it interesting, to say the least.

"...You okay, Neku?" Joshua tilts his head, as a few sparks of concern come through his usually sardonic demeanor.

Neku can barely get the words out, but he tries, "No... I'm not, actually." He's on the cusp of tears.

His voice could barely be heard by normal ears, but it's fine, because Joshua can hear him.

He always can.

"... Those thoughts aren't going anywhere," Joshua's tone has turned considerably sympathetic, far more gentle, possibly even genuine, "Let's just wait for a bit."

Joshua sits beside him, now.

Gently placing his hand on Neku's, he can feel it shaking, as it's clenched tight.

Neku feels the strange silence is comforting, simply because Joshua is here.

Neku, deep down, wanted nothing more than the company of someone else.

Especially right now.

Even if it was Joshua’s...

No, not ‘even’... He found comfort in Joshua’s knowing tone, and even in his kind gestures...

No matter how foreign it all was to Neku.

He didn’t feel like questioning it, right now. Joshua was the only other person here, the only one he could talk to.

Neku doesn’t want to take that for granted.

Neku tries to speak, once more, as tears blur his eyes, which he dared to open once more, too weak to look ahead, he stares at the ground below him,

at Joshua's hand, still tenderly holding his own.

"...Josh... Did I...", Neku gulps, trying to release the words tangled in his throat, "Kill those people...?"

"No, you didn't. They were already gone. You gave them mercy, if anything," Joshua brushes his thumb over Neku's hand, speaking calmly. "They can pass on peacefully, now."

"... You mean it...?"

"I do. They even left us their thoughts, it's something that can help us."

"... It can help us...?"

"Of course, Neku," Joshua gently brushes his shoulder against his, "Try to look forward, try to look at them."

As hesitant as he is, he trusts Joshua.

Joshua would take a chance like this to screw with him,

but he figured Joshua still has things for him to do.

And Neku knows he himself can't leave until he's done what he has to.

Whatever ulterior purpose Joshua has, refusing to listen to him would make things drag on.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with Joshua's ire.

... And who knows? Maybe Joshua actually was concerned.

Only if because Joshua wasn't his assailant, this time.

Neku looks forward.

There's naught but glowing wisps, a condensation of people's thoughts lingering in the air.

It almost seemed as though they were waiting.

"Try to read them, Neku." Joshua prompts him. "Read their thoughts, just like you've done before."

Joshua gently lifts his hand from Neku's, from which Neku tries to muster the energy to lift his arm... To try to understand the words waiting for him.

Neku feels weak, he hisses silently from a cut on his arm. It wasn't only because of the battle, no, but he hadn't noticed how tired he'd grown over the past week.

It's not like he was loitering around. He was trying his damndest to figure more information out, and find a way out of Shinjuku.

That last battle really cemented his exhaustion in--

Taking notice, Joshua helps, gently lifting Neku's arm up properly. He takes care to not worsen his injuries,

"There, just like that. Go on, Neku."

And so, Neku does.

Realigning himself with the thoughts before him...

He focuses...

He hears them.

"The pain, it's... Gone..."

"... It's okay now, right?"

"What was I doing before this...? Hmm..."

"That man, wearing a butterfly..."

"He looked vengeful, didn't he?"

"Mama, was there something wrong with him?"

Some of them pay Neku no head, some soon extend a silent thanks his way.

They don't speak to him, but he feels it, just before they all fade away.

A vague sense of gratitude.

Joshua lets go of Neku's arm, and Neku stands back on his own two feet, as does Joshua.

"I'd say that was worth it, no?" Joshua's snide tone returns.

Neku kicks at the ground, "... That battle sucked ass."

"You won though, didn't you?" Joshua winks.

Neku crosses his arms, "So what if I did..." Suddenly, Neku wonders, and his wounded arm falls to his side, being clutched by the other.

That battle... Still did a number on him, physically. It was difficult on all ends.

A concerned expression forms on Neku's face, "...Hey, I won't have to do that again, will I?"

"I can't say. You should prepare yourself for the worst, anyways." There's something different about the way he says that, Neku can't recognize Joshua's tone, but he rolls with it.

Neku is silent, his eyes pointed in Joshua's direction. He has better questions to ask.

"... Why are you here, anyways?"

"Why? Because I'm your Partner, Neku."

"Not what I meant. You're Shibuya's Composer. I didn't think you could do anything outside those boundaries."

Joshua chuckles, hand to hip, "You clearly underestimate my capabilities."

Neku rolls his eyes, "You were the one who said you can't come here yourself. Did you find some loophole?"

Joshua continues, this rare generous mood of his leading him to continue entertaining Neku with answers. "Oh, Neku... Neku, Neku, Neku... You are my loophole."

Neku realizes just how messed up his role as a messenger has become. He tried not to think about it before, because what could he do about it? Regardless, it still bothers him.

Neku sighs, "... You don't plan on letting me take a break, do you?"

Then, Joshua says something, that frankly, Neku didn't expect at all,

"Not my jurisdiction, that's all on you, Neku."

Neku's head is now fully turned towards Joshua, only to be met with his eyes staring back at him.

Neku tilts his head, curious, yet suspicious, "Is it, now?"

Joshua states, rather matter of factly, "You have a lot to learn before you can further deepen your understanding of what happened here."

Joshua grins with his eyes, yet his mischievous demeanor returns.

"By all means, take your time, Partner."

Neku opens his eyes.

It is now Day 9.

He's decided his fate is indeed in his own hands, and no one else's.

Neku spends the day trying to find peace of mind.

Night 21

“You don’t look too hot, Partner. Miss me that much?” Joshua asks.

Neku is silent, a strained expression on his face, eyes shut tight. Unresponsive.

It was like Neku barely heard him.

Joshua groans, wanting some kind of response from Neku. "If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed you went back on all of your changes, as a person. Are you back to hating everyone, Neku?"

Neither Neku nor Joshua look very well for wear, it’s been about two weeks since they last met. They've both been busy.

Neku’s sitting, hands pressed hard to his headphones, as if trying to listen to them like they’re broken conch shells.

Joshua sighs. “... Did you even realize the Day’s ended, Neku?”

Neku opens one eye, sulks, “I’m... Trying to find something...”, before shutting it, again.

Joshua tilts his head, “Would you mind enlightening me on what that is?”

Neku’s voice is quieter than usual, “... Their thoughts became muffled.” as if not wanting to speak over the City’s whispers.

“Hm... Isn’t that quite the predicament.”

Joshua sits in front of Neku, studying his face.

Looking from multiple angles, he notices Neku’s eyebags, seeing that sleep deprivation has set in, despite the mandated time that Days are supposed to end.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Neku seemed a bit thinner, too. His arms, legs...

He’s definitely run into more Noise battles in the past two weeks, as well. Likely caught off guard for a good handful of them.

Wounds Neku poorly tried to hide and mend were incredibly obvious. A single healing Pin that needs time to reboot can only do so much.

Joshua has a lot on his mind, right now. A lot of priorities.

The Neku before him reminded him strongly of that.

“Maybe I can help. Take your hands off of those precious headphones of yours, Neku.”

Hesitant, yet stuck with no other answers, Neku complies.

“Guess it’s worth a shot, whatever you... Hey, wait--!”

Joshua swiftly robs Neku of his Headphones.

“There. Try it, now.” Joshua grins slightly, patting Neku’s headphones, as if reassuring him of their safety in his hands.

Grumbling, Neku thinks, ‘There’s no way it’s that easy...’

He tries to focus his mind once more, hands hovering over his ears, where his headphones used to be.

... He begins to hear things he once couldn’t.

His strained expression ebbs away slowly.

Joshua looks on, a silent giggle passes his lips.

Watching Neku’s expression relax, as he listens clearly to new thoughts floating in the air...

It made Joshua feel a fleeting sense of happiness, as he too felt rather worn-out.

Lowering his hands, opening his eyes, the exhaustion in his eyes faded out, even if just a little.

Neku whispers, quietly, “... Thanks, Josh.”

“Really, you were helpless without me, Neku...” Joshua jests, yet there's a hint of melancholy to his words, “You’re welcome, though.”

Joshua gives Neku his headphones back, placing them around his neck, then helps him back up on his feet.

“Try using that sixth sense of yours more, Neku.” Joshua's eyes fall to the side, “‘I’ve been quite busy lately.”

“Right... How’s Shibuya been?”, Neku asks... A slew of concerns rise up on his mind’s list of priorities.

Joshua crosses his arms, “Depends. Do you have anything new to report?”

Neku tries to think carefully about how to say this... He sighs, and decides to just be honest.

'... No. Not yet...”

Directing his eyes back to Neku, Joshua gives him a hard stare, for a few moments...

Joshua decides he’s had enough, for now, “... Since you seem to be having a hard time, I’ll forgive you this time, Partner.”

Neku releases a breath he held in anticipation, “Oh, cry me a river, why don’t you...”, He figured Joshua would stop being cooperative eventually, he’s just surprised it hasn’t happened yet.

Twirling his hair curl around his finger, Joshua continues, “In any case, the Shinjuku Reapers have basically taken over Shibuya’s Reaper Games,"Joshua tuts, rubbing the hair between his fingers casually, "The previous Game Master was unable to stop them.”

... Neku tries to not think about how that probably wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t off the previous Conductor.

Well, the Shibuya he knows and so dearly loves would be no more, but still... Part of his mind thinks, ‘at least there would have been one’...

Judging by Joshua mentioning only the Game Master... Did he even hire another Conductor, yet...?

... Neku didn’t feel like risking getting on Joshua’s bad side. Not to the extent that asking would bring about, anyways.

After a long pause, Neku replies. “... You say that like it’s not a huge deal.”

He knows better than to worry himself sick over things he can't control. If Joshua doesn't seem worried, chances are it's fine.

Joshua runs his hand through his hair, other hand in pocket, “Hah. Hard to say, really. If I’m being honest?” There's a slightly vicious look in Joshua’s eyes. “I’m kind of excited to see where they take it.”

... Neku takes it back. He forgot Joshua fakes his emotions for a living.

Neku crosses his arms, “Sounds like you’re lying through your teeth, Josh.”

Joshua realizes that he’s not the best at keeping up his facade when he himself is exhausted.

That, or Neku’s just gotten to know him that well. Joshua's little tics, stims, fidgets...

He kind of hates it, but he also kind of loves it. That wasn’t Neku’s business, though.

Joshua replies, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “It’s fine,” he rolls his eyes. “They’re not doing anything blasphemous, in any case.”

The silence is thoroughly awkward, between the two. It’s a wonder that the next Day hasn’t begun yet.

Joshua is just waiting, while Neku has other things on his mind...

Neku sighs, “... I get that you’re basically a God, and everything, but are you taking care of yourself?”

Joshua gives him an irritated look, “What, worried I can’t handle a bit of pressure from the opposition? You wound me, Neku.”

“Geez, is it wrong to be worried about my Partner?” Neku mumbles, rubbing the back of his head, “You just look... Tired.”

The more he cared, the more Joshua took offense to it, “You’re practically bleeding at every cut. You really have no place to be speaking to me like that.”

“Sorry, I haven’t exactly had time to rest,” Neku scoffs.

“That makes the both of us, then.”

“Guess it does.”

The two stare at each other for some time, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.

...

Neku sighs, letting go of the tension in his shoulders,

“Josh, I think we’re both tired as hell of all of this.”

Joshua tilts his head, unconvinced, “Your point being?”

“We need a long-term game plan.”

“You think I don’t have my own?”

“If you do have one, feel free to let me in on it.” Neku stands his ground. ”Just telling me to relay information to you isn’t exactly what I’d call a good plan.”

Day ???

"Well, well, if it isn't my splendiferous wonderful old friend, Nekkykins!"

"Hey, Coco."

Neku was given a brief explanation on what was going to happen, some time ago. He would return to Shibuya with the assistance of the Harrier Reaper Coco Atarashi, which included assisting her with something else, afterwards.

‘... And you’re telling me I have to wait a whole month before she gets here?’

‘That’s the deal, Partner. Don’t worry, it’ll all pay off in the end.... You trust me, don’t you?’

Said assistance would likely lead to more information about the Shinjuku Inversion being uncovered, as she has close ties with someone who was investigating, as well... That person in particular was in need of help.

"Since I’m here to pick you up, we should get going soon! Althooough... I also have something else for you!"

... Neku knew better than to let personal feelings get in the way, at this point, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat bothered... Even so.

It's too much trouble to hold a grudge against someone for taking your life.

Even if it was isolating, horrifying, and downright made him feel like he didn't exist... For three, long, years...

It was fine. It ended up being for the greater good--

Coco cheered, “Here are some fresh new clothes for you!"

Neku’s response was delayed, as he’s deep in thought. "Huh...? Thanks, I guess."

"C'mon, c'mon, try it on, at least!" Coco prompts him, putting them in his hands. "Those old clothes must be so dingy and tight, by now!!"

"Alright, I get it... Give me a second."

It doesn't take too long for Neku to change, once he's found a place to do so.

Somehow, his old clothes never did shrink, if any part of his wardrobe did stay the same size through the years, it would probably be his old headphones and music player.

He was no longer in possession of either, though.

... The new clothes were pretty comfortable. Fits his style, too.

Coco claps her hands, "You look suuuper cute! Plaid really suits you, y'know!"

"Uh... Thanks.” Neku rubs the back of his head, somewhat bashfully. “Can we get to Shibuya, then?"

"Yes, yes! Buuut, before that... We should arrange for a place to meet up after you get there. It'll be alot easier to explain things!"

“I’ll be helping your friend out, right? Then she can tell us more about the Inversion that took place here.”

Coco nods. “Super-duper Splendiferous! You already know what you need to do!”

"Works for me. How about we meet up at Cat Street... Wildkat work for you?"

"Oh, you mean where it used to be?” Coco takes Neku by the arm. “Sure thing! Let's gooo!"

Not being given the time to process the implications of 'where it used to be', the two are already off to the races.

Things seem... Different, as Coco's dragging him along. He's not sure, but... Somehow, the inverted city of Shinjuku didn't seem as small or cramped, as the two approach it's border.

He didn’t even know there was a border, but if he guessed anyone would know about it, it would be a Reaper of Coco’s caliber... And not someone like himself.

While they're running at a brisk pace, Coco realizes something, and slows her pace. Letting go of Neku's wrist, she turns to him. Guilt apparent in her puppy-eyes, she bows before him,

"By the way... I'm ever so sorry for what I did three years ago!! I'm a whole new person now, I promise you!!!"

Neku can't shake the feeling that he can't trust or forgive Coco, no matter how close she thinks she is with him, and even if he's determined to help her friend.

It doesn't mean he can't try, at least. Neku gave the guy who killed him twice multiple chances to make it up to him, why wouldn't he do the same here?

... And for one thing, she actually apologized.

"... It's alright. That reminds me, though..."

"Oh? Do tell."

... It was fine to ask, wasn’t it? There was still one thing he was dying to know, for as long as he’s been dead.

"Why did you kill me, anyways, Coco?"

There's a vacant expression resting on his face, as he asks.

Any frustrations, tears, any sense of despair for his own death... It left him a long time ago.

He had the feeling death meant very, very little to Coco. Surely, it was just a small question to her.

"Ahh, about that... The truth is..."

Coco fiddled her thumbs, guilt written all over her face,

"IwantedyouandMisterMini-MotototeamupandsaveShinjukutogetherbutthenitwastoolate..!!!"

Coco takes a deep breath, having confessed in one fell swoop.

... It took Neku a second to process that.

Well. It was what it was.

"It's alright. Let by-gones be by-gones, and all that, I was just--"

Suddenly, a headache crashes through Neku's head,

"G-gh..." He clutches his head, staggering.

Coco exclaims, "Are you alright, Nekkykins?!"

It's another Vision. A Future Vision.

“Beat, are you okay?!”

“Don’t stop-- Keep goin’! I’mma stay here and keep him at bay.”

That's... It's Beat's voice.

“P-p-preposterous!”

“I can’t give y’all a speed boost right now... So I gotta slow him down instead. Ya feel?”

Something’s hurting him, someone’s hurting Beat--

“What’re ya waitin’ for? Go!”

“And leave you behind?!”

“I’m tryna buy y’all some time here, yo!”

“And what happens when you run out of time?!”

“We’ll see.”

What is he doing... What is Beat doing?!

“No, we won’t!”

“There’s no way we’re letting you face him all by yourself! You’re gonna get erased!”

Who?! Who are they facing--

... Erasure...?

“What-- you don’t think I can handle ‘im?”

“No, I don’t!!”

“Defeat is inevitable.”

“Y’all cold, yo!”

“And you’re hurt, Worms-For-Brains!!”

"Either we all escape together... Or we all fight together!"

Beat, you have to listen, BEAT--

"Look-- I’mma need you to chill for a sec. We all stay and fight, we all get erased."

“... B... Beat...? What are you doing...?”

Coco’s saying something, but Neku can’t hear her. He can’t hear anything except for--

"Ain’t nobody gonna be left to save Shibuya... I’ll catch up with you later, but for now, y’all gotta go.”

Is he... Is Beat planning to sacrifice himself...?

“Sorry, pal... Can’t let ya through.”

“Beat!!!”

That younger boy called out in fear, clutching a Pin desperately, a weakened Beat is holding back a rampaging Leo Cantus, there's no chance he’ll last long--

Before Neku even realized it, every second that Future Vision amped up, his legs were running for the Barrier of Shinjuku,

The vision ebbs away, but everything in it is burned into his mind,

‘He looks so different--'

any exhaustion Neku might have had was completely gone,

'He looks how I used to look, even with his own headphones--'

replaced with the urgent need to save one of his closest friends.

'He's throwing his life away to protect the others, the other Players in the visions I've been getting for the past three weeks--'

Neku's thoughts are burning inside his head, as the Vision keeps replaying in his head, he feels like he's about to combust,

‘Hang in there, Beat, hang in there!’

He doesn't even realize he's completely left Coco behind, but

There are tears streaming down Neku’s face,

his breathing's turned erratic,

his non-beating heart is beating, loudly in his chest,

Neku needs to get back to Shibuya,

Neku needs to save Beat,

Right now,

Before it's too late.

Before it's too late...

BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE--

[itsclydebitches]

I’m just gonna point out something that I don’t think anyone has really talked about. Back in V7, when our heroes and the AceOps went down after the heat was shut off, their ship was attacked and destroyed by a flying grimm. So, anyone wonder what would happen if a bunch of ships carrying scared civilians started flying around the grimm infested skies? Yeah, most of the ships would be attacked and destroyed. During the first evac I assume there were enough troops to prevent that, but now...

I’m already seeing a number of jokes along the lines of “lol stupid Ironwood thinking he can’t save everyone. Whitley is king!” and while I support both fandom joking and Whitley finally getting some appreciation... people realize this is a garbage plan, right? It’s not even a plan. Relevant lines from Whitley include: 

“The people in the crater, they need a way out, right?” 

“...we can get people to safety” 

and “while the grimm are occupied with the general’s forces.” 

So, when did we establish that the Mantle people “need a way out”? Granted, everyone needs a way out from the kingdom when Salem is attacking, but here Whitley’s dialogue doesn’t clarify whether they intend to take the Mantle citizens somewhere else within the kingdom, or take them out of the kingdom entirely. Either option has its serious downsides, with the pertinent issues being, “The city is under attack by endless grimm, the skies are full of endless grimm, and the rest of the kingdom is made up of inhospitable tundra.” If just zipping across the border to safety was an option  —  with, as you say, an army that could have assisted — don’t they think Ironwood would have simply evacuated rather than trying to get up into the air? He knows damn well Salem will just destroy any airship she comes across, to say nothing of the grimm attracted to fear and attacking outside of her orders. And if they intend to just get the Mantle citizens to Atlas... why? Atlas is the area that’s currently under attack, it no longer has any defensive shields, and we’ve established that (conveniently) the crater is warmer than the rest of a heat-less Mantle. The only reason why the crater isn’t currently the best place for citizens to ride out the attack is because, if the Staff is moved, Atlas falls down on top of them, but that’s something none of the cast with magic knowledge has thought about. So we’re left with these dual issues of, “The group straight up never said what they plan to DO with these citizens once they’re in airships” and “Anything they could do with them is worse than leaving them where they are.” (Which, for the record, I don’t blame Whitley for because he only MARGINALLY knows what’s going on and is just trying his best. It’s the group, the informed adults here, who aren’t bothering to think about their choices beyond, “That’s something we can technically do.”) RWBY, as I’ve mentioned in the past, is really good at throwing out persuasive sounding lines that don’t actually mean anything, banking on the audience either a) thinking up an explanation/meaning themselves or b) not thinking at all about the line beyond the fact that it exists. Whitley goes, “We can get people to safety!” and no one asks what “safety” means in this context. If his definition of “safety” is “Take all the powerless citizens that Salem is currently uninterested in and make them appealing targets by trying to fly them through her massive grimm army,” then we’ve got a problem. 

Now, alongside all that add in the fact that the first part of this plan — “plan”  — hinges entirely on Ironwood keeping Salem at bay. Rather than working with him from the start and rather than assisting in the defense of Atlas now, the group has chosen to piggy-back off his work to, as established, achieve an incredibly ill-thought-out goal. Kind of like how they used his work all through Volume 7 to achieve the equally ill-thought-out goal of telling the world about Salem. These moments are presented as the group doing something Big and Heroic (and indeed, thematically there is something great about Whitley reclaiming the SDC with good intentions), but if you answer even the most basic of questions like, “What will we do with these people once we have them?” it all falls apart.