#I've already hinted at it before & i mean i know in the end on TH ima eventually have it labeled what this sorta ordeal is.

[livrere-green]

I've been thinking about an omegaverse atla au a lot recently, so I'm gonna vent about it cuz it's getting tiring just to have it spiralling in my head ngl

So, the only thing that I need to mention now it's that the standard age at which someone presents is around 13 to 14 years old. Knowing that, lets talk about the main characters.

Aang (12) would be unpresented by the time of the show. Also, I don't believe that being the avatar makes him an alpha perse. I mean, there's a possibility he presents as one (but he could also be a beta), and it wouldn't have anything to do with his avatar status (historically there could be a higher rate of avatars being alphas/betas, but there are some important exceptions... iykwim). Well, I think he'd present at age 13 almost 14.

Katara (14) is one of the characters that confuses me the most in this aspect, but just to add fuel to her fury and her personality, I'll make her an omega, not the kind that rejects her nature but the kind that embraces it and doesn't see it as something that makes her inferior or helpless. Katara would fight against the life society wants to impose on her in the same way she does in canon, maybe even more. She would resent the people who doesn't respect her because of her gender (just make it double), and at some point, she'd get frustrated about it, but she would think that hating herself would mean letting them win. About her presentation, there's two option: 1. She presented some months before they found Aang, 2. She presented during the first months they were traveling to the NWT (in this case, I think the ideal place would've been Kyoshi Island, because there's people able to take care of her there).

Sokka (15) would be an alpha, he probably presented after Hakoda left (14), he fits the type and the stereotypical personality at the beginning of the show. But I think he would get over it sooner rather than later and he would learnt to respect and don't underestimate betas and omegas just based on their nature. Also, I think that Sokka would scent the Gaang to protect them and particularly to cover Katara's scent as they travel or run away from trouble.

Toph (12) would be unpresented by the time of the show. She'd present as an alpha some time after the end of the war (13). There's not a lot to explain here (talking about her at that age, except for the fact that even during her time with the Gaang, she probably hated Sokka's essence, just as an early hint about her gender). I consider that there's a lot to discuss about her as an adult and how she managed her relationships, but that's a discussion for another time.

Zuko (16) would be an omega, and also a late bloomer, probably presented a couple of years after his banishment (15).. Zuko would be determined to hide his true nature under any circumstances, letting only his Uncle know about it. Ozai would've been informed that his son is a beta, which was already a disappointment for the Royal Family (historically alphas), but it wasn't nearly as negative as being reduced to be treated as an omega. Zuko would end up causing himself a lot of damage in order to disguise as a beta, either by using too many suppressants or other medications, or even hurting himself physically and mentally. He would stop hiding he's an omega after joining the Gaang but It'll be complicated, since he'd be distressed all the time and even Aang and Toph would be able to notice (their senses are not totally develop, so it'll be kinda alarming).

Suki (15) would be a beta, presented at 14. In her case, the characteristics of its gender would be especially helpful to mediate conflict or get out of it. The scent of a beta has calming effects in both alphas and omegas, so she would use it with her friends, or even in battle, to make her opponents lose focus, particularly if their driven by rage. The fans are particularly helpful for that.

Azula (14) would present early as an alpha (12/13). At that age, one of the traits she would manifest the most is assuming the position of head of the pact with her friends, she'd probably scent them with the intention of establishing superiority and control over them. In this context, Mai would be a beta and Ty Lee an omega or a beta as well.

That's all for now, I still have some things in mind for this, but I'll share that later, and if you have questions, I'll be happy to answer!

[bluebugjay]

so I've had this little not too serious theory in my head that the couple from Wild Blue Yonder and That Unwanted Animal are the same couple just in two separate time lines.

So to me it seems like the wby couple has realised they should break up (Seen that wild blue yonder and said, "Let's end this, too"), that if they don't their relationship will only grow toxic and hold them back. They're both scared of moving on (let's hide under the covers, we don't know what's out there) and being alone in the world again but they know its for the better (Don't you ever wonder what could have been? All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried ) and plan to use everything they've learnt in this relationship on their next (Every brick you hurled, I'll use to build this world) I like to think they mutually break up in this time line and manage to move on happily.

However in tua it seems like it's telling the story of if the couple didn't break up at that point and allowed their relationship to rot and grew bitter with each other, they let their fear of moving on and the unknown keep them chained down and together so they never got that freedom they do in the wby time line. (You try so loud to love me, I cannot seem to hear.) They're trying to force themselves to continue on as a couple and not communicate how its not really what either of them want (And on the creature scratches, it doesn't know how to get out (let me out!)). To the point they're both stuck in an unhealthy relationship, resenting and possibly hating each other. (Be good to me, I beg of him, Be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good. And he replies (oh), "No, no, not I") It's also possibly hinted at that they have a child / children in this time line that otherwise they wouldn't have, and now that they see their relationship is crumbling, regret having (And I make sure the bairns are fed // Hold the hand of the god-child, they said, as he falls from the sky)

More under the cut

They both also reference sex in two completely different ways. Wby seems to reference some kind of last goodbye, break up sex for fun like a celebration of their relationship. (So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes off // Come and rip off my socks like you're blasting the locks off of a bank vault (halt) This time we're done for.) Whereas tua's reference to sex is so much more forced and kind of unsettling because it doesn't seem much fun for either party and almost like they're just performing as a happy couple. ('Cause you, you touch, my skin peels off like paint, but beneath all of our panting, there's this noise I cannot shake // And we fall into each other, the scratching grows so loud // And our screaming joins in unison, I cry out to the Lord.) It's two completely different perspectives of the same thing.

There's also a few parallels in the lyrics such as:

Hide under the covers, We don't know what's out there // There's a second wind coming as we lie here in our bed

Try, please, try for me (Tried my best to get thinner) // And as the belt from your buckle is tightening

And the candle we lit. Well, we'll use it to burn this whole place to the ground // And you, you, you light a candle. And I make sure the bairns are fed

I've got something in my eye (I surrender what was) // "And can't you hear that scratching?" I ask your eyes

We don't know what's out there. Can't you hear that scratching? // Well, can't you hear that scratching? There's something at the door

That last one being the most obvious and telling because it's the same exact wording with probably a similar meaning but completely different presentation. In wby they're wondering what's out there whereas in tua the 'creature' is already at the door and they know it. The 'creature' could be a couple things, it could be a personification of their toxic relationship itself, the fact its seemingly not arrived in wby because they break up before it turns toxic whereas its right at their door in tua because they're living the toxic relationship. It could be yearning for freedom from the relationship, both versions of the couple are hearing it and want it but the wby couple break up and let the 'creature' in before it turns against them compared to the tua couple who leave it locked out until 'the door below, it splinters, and the creature creeps inside.' The creature could be them as a couple trying to escape the relationship (And on the creature scratches, it doesn't know how to get out (let me out!)) because being in the relationship has turned them into each other 'unwanted animals' and the scratching they hear in wby is just a warning of what could come.

Other than that the whole energy of the songs are almost opposites, wby is so full of life and hopeful and light hearted whereas tua is unsettling and concerning and makes a point to add a joke in the lyrics that flies over the other partner's head because all fun and ease has abandoned that version of the relationship. ("Well, hello, my hollow Holofernes" I wink, but you don't get the joke)

I know there's a few different parallels between a couple of their songs so this is probably just one of them and might even be able to be expanded on using more songs but either way I think it's pretty interesting and very cleverly done

[g00mbers]

OKAY SO , I'VE COOKED 2 HEADCANONS FOR ANGELO...

BUT you know how his "leaked" mastery title is "Bloodthirsty" and like theres a few hints that he drinks blood? At the same time this "doesn't make sense" because Angelo is a male 🧛‍♂️ which leads to my 2 headcanons

1rst HC: Angelo was a worker in the starr park ofc , and When the gem thing that gives superpowers "infected him" , a Mosquito probably was biting him , Leading him to turn into an half mosquito-half man-creature , And because ALL Mosquitos that suck blood are FEMALE this leaded him to just inherit all the mosquito traits , which means he ended up becoming bigender /HJ!!!

2cond HC: Same thing from the other headcanon except that he was trans before the transformation (real) 🫦

Then theres lik,, the third possibility that he was already an mosquito and just became humanoid,,,but bro looks too much like a human and like,, 30% Mosquito , which leads me to believe he was probably human since before 😞

Anyways enjoy th little shitpost art i made above lmao , not even willow believes he's straight

[tabbytabbytabby]

prompt j for valevans please :)

Hi! Thanks so much for the prompt 💜

Read on AO3

It's not that Kyle hates Christmas. It's just that as he's gotten older, he's found it less and less appealing. Gone is the childhood wonder, replaced by annoyance of crowded streets and even more crowded stores. 

He gets that for some, there's an appeal to the holiday, but Kyle just can't see it. 

Which is why when he steps into Max's house and finds that it's been transformed into some sort of winter nightmare, he baulks in the doorway. 

"Why does it look like Santa threw up Christmas in your house?" 

Max peeks his head around the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the room and beams at him. "Isn't it great?"

He has an elf hat perched on his head and an apron over what's clearly a Christmas sweater. Kyle has to shake away the thought that he looks adorable. That's not what he should be thinking right now.

"That's one word for it," Kyle mutters. He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his shoes before walking towards where Max has disappeared into the kitchen.

"You don't like it?" Max guesses.

"What gave me away?"

Max chuckles. "You looked like you were about to throw up at the sight of the decorations."

"Never really been big on the holidays." Kyle shrugs. "Especially since I usually spend them alone, which always gets rubbed in my face even more this time of year."

"So spend them with me," Max says.

"Seriously?"

"Why not? 

"I don't need you to pity me, Max," Kyle mutters.

Max frowns. "I'm not inviting you out of pity. In fact…"

"What?"

"I've been meaning to ask you," Max admits. "I just wasn't sure if you'd want to come."

"Oh."

"So?" Max prompts, nudging his arm with his. 

"What?" Kyle questions.

"Oh, so you want a formal invitation then." Max nods and turns to face Kyle fully. He places his hands on his shoulders and leans down to meet Kyle's eyes. "Kyle Valenti, would you do me the great honor of spending Christmas with me?"

Kyle shoves him away. But all Max does is laugh as he keeps hold of Kyle, pulling him with him as he stumbles back further into the kitchen.

"That wasn't an answer," Max tells him. 

"You really want me here?" Kyle asks. 

"I do," Max says.

"You're not worried about me going all Grinch on your holiday cheer?"

Max smiles. "Even the Grinch learned to love Christmas by the end, so I'm sure we can find something for you to love."

I already do, Kyle thinks.

It's only when Max's smile grows, and he tilts his head, eyes seeming to sparkle as he asks, "What was that?" that he realizes he might have said that out loud. Shit.

"Nothing," Kyle says. "It was nothing."

"Uh-huh."

"It was," Kyle argues. "I said nothing."

"If you say so."

Max sighs and lifts his head back. When he looks back at Kyle, he's smirking. 

Kyle groans. "What is it now?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" 

He nods his head upwards, and Kyle reluctantly follows his gaze. 

Mistletoe. 

Shit.

Leave it to Max Evans to have mistletoe hanging in his kitchen. 

"Is there a reason you have mistletoe hanging in your own kitchen?" Kyle asks him.

Max shrugs. "Must be a Christmas wish come true."

"What does that mean?"

Max leans in, his breath warm as it blows across his skin, as he lowers his voice to say. "You know that thing you didn't say before?"

"Yeah?"

"I do too."

Kyle pulls back to look at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Not at all," Max says. "Never about this."

Kyle takes a deep breath, which is a mistake. This close, all he can smell is Max. His cologne mixed with a hint of sugar and vanilla. It's intoxicating. 

Everything about Max is. 

"Did you put the Mistletoe there on purpose?" Kyle asks him.

"You mean, did I put it there knowing you'd be coming over and therefore stepping foot into the kitchen, and possibly this very spot? Yes, I did."

Kyle nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Christmas spirit," Kyle says. "You put that there for a reason. Why don't you show me why?"

Max doesn't need to be told twice. He snaps into action, closing the last few inches between them and kissing him before he can blink. All Kyle can think is finally as their lips brush, moving together in a way that's new yet somehow familiar. 

"This holiday might not be so bad," Kyle admits when they finally have to pull back for air.

Max smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Especially if I can spend it like this."

Max hums and wraps his arms around Kyle's waist, and pulls him closer. "You definitely can."

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 9

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINE

For the first time in your life, you awoke in your own pool of sweat and with the fresh thoughts of Bucky as he managed to scoop you up with his strong lean arms and take you right then and there at the kitchen counter in your wild, vivid memory of dreams.

You blamed Nat for this. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't even have inappropriate thoughts towards Bucky. Yes, you did notice his strong masculine exterior, jaw sharp as a killer's knife, body as strong as a boulder, and legs that could easily kill but did you have any thoughts on advancing towards him? No, absolutely not. He was Peter's stepbrother for crying out loud. But last night, something changed in the laws of physics. It was as if two resting bodies silently reacted to one another without a sudden force acting upon the two.

That morning, you didn't dare find out if Bucky was still in your apartment. You skipped your morning run and headed up towards the rooftop using the ladder right outside your window with a hot cup of coffee in your hand (which spilled a bit on the way up, by the way) and enjoyed the scent and sight of the dirtier part of New York City -- all its damp, cigarette covered pavements.

For the next few days, you saw no sign of Bucky. He hadn't been in the bar or in your apartment, as much as you wished he would stop by once in a while. But then, you would hear Peter talk to him on the phone every single night.

You never thought Bucky's lack of presence would start to bother you. It wasn't just the feelings of sudden desire you had for him but also the weird time you shared together -- as if you were just old friends catching up. You found it absolutely crazy how a lot of things just happened in the course of a day.

You wanted to ask Peter about Bucky's whereabouts, just a casual slip of "Hey, where's Bucky?" but you never dared to ask. So when Peter blabbed during a movie night that Bucky had been way too busy managing some business meetings, gatherings, and whatnots ever since he got back in the city, you were more than glad.

Nat had been coming to the bar every night ever since Tuesday, picking up extra shifts. She kept badgering you about Bucky this and Bucky that. She was one of the reasons why you couldn't keep Bucky out of your head. Her sudden long shifts at the bar wasn't only because she was so invested with your nonexistent dating life or, to her, a possibility of one with Bucky, but because she and Steve were secretly hooking up. Of course, she didn't tell you that. It's not like she needed to, anyway. It only took one sniff of Steve's strong scent on hers for you to find out.

Every passing day at the bar felt so slow and the same. The only thing that changed was Peter rejecting a drink on one Thursday night.

"Woah, what got your knickers on a twist?" You asked as soon as he approached the counter.

"I'm just not in the mood, y/n." He sighed. "Can I just have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course. Coming right up." You slid the glass of water on the counter towards him, your fingers drumming against the thick wood. "So, what's bothering you?"

He looked up at you with sulky eyes. "Oh god, you really are a bartender."

"And your best friend. So, what's up?"

He shook his head nothing, sipping the glass of water like a scotch.

His little act was unconvincing. Especially that he didn't try hard enough to conceal whatever he was feeling.

"Parker." You insisted. "Come on, what's up?"

"You see right through me, y/n."

"Don't flatter me too much," you rolled your eyes, "you're just easy to read."

But Peter was also stubborn as a bull. He wouldn't budge or give you any clue on what was bothering him. You thought that leaving him as you tended to other bargoers would eventually give him time to change his mind but you were proven wrong. It itched your brain that he wouldn't tell you whatever it was. You usually told each other everything. But then again, you haven't really been open with him with your growing desire for his stepbrother -- which, you hoped you never would, as you hoped all those feelings would eventually go away and keep it in a state of latency.

Peter stood by his ground, consuming no ounce of alcohol and keeping his mouth shut the rest of the night. You knew when to keep away from other people's business, even if it was your best friend's. You did try to make his evening lighter though, checking up on him and telling some old, classic bartender stories, seeing as he was clearly in an uncomfortable state but all he kept telling you was: "You're killing me, y/n. You're absolutely killing me."

You felt a heavy feeling on your chest with his surprisingly fierce tone. You urged him to go home after that, so he did.

"Dick." You mumbled after he left.

Nick walked towards the counter. "What's wrong with your roommate?"

"Wish I could tell you."

You and Nick have been getting along well despite you rejecting him. Nat kept telling you it was a way of manipulating you or some sort, to get you close to him but nothing has really happened ever since he asked you out. There wasn't a change in mood in the atmosphere, or even the way he treated you. Just some good colleagues working together.

The next night, Peter was more in the mood and even apologized to you for the way he behaved last night. "Now, for some great news."

"Does this mean you're having a drink?" You asked.

He nodded eagerly and patiently waited for his beer. Once he got his cold sip, he continued talking: "So, I've been really in a slump lately because I'm kind of lovesick. But then -- "

"Wait, what did you say?" You knitted your brows together, catching the last word he said. "Did you say lovesick? You son of a bitch, are you in love?"

"Language!" Out of nowhere, Steve yelled over the buzzing noises inside the bar. You snickered and he just gave you a look before he disappeared back into his office.

He is such a grandpa.

Peter chuckled. "To be honest, I have been for a very long time."

Your jaw dropped on the floor, ears all perked up, wanting to hear every detail of this. "And you never thought to tell me? Parker, I've been your best friend since forever. Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, avoiding your stare. "It's not that big a deal."

"Okay, was this after that bitch Denise?"

"Actually, waaaay before that."

"Oh wow, that long, huh?" You replied. "Oh my god, is it someone we know from college? Shit, is it MJ?"

"No, it's not!" He replied. "And I'm not telling you who because I don't have actual plans on pursuing her." He sighed through his nose while taking a big sip of his beer. He brought down the bottle on the counter with a loud thud.

"So, it's a girl."

He grunted in reply.

You laughed. "So, why not pursue her?" You asked while multitasking. You handed a bowl of peanuts to the man beside Peter who was asking for it. "Is she taken? Does she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?"

"No, she doesn't."

"So, why the hell not, Parker?"

You impatiently waited for an answer from Peter as it took him a couple of minutes to do so.

"Because I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think it will ever work." He answered, scratching the label on his beer bottle with much frustration. "I've thought about all the probabilities, but every single one of them ends the same."

"And what is that?"

"That it won't work out."

The thing about Peter was he never dive into things headfirst. Even though he was a dumbass, he was always a man of intellect who calculated everything in his head before committing to something.

"Why is it always statistics and probabilities and all that crap with you?" You let out an exasperated sigh. "What if for once in your life, follow your goddamn heart? You keep treating everything with a business mind. Go with what your gut tells you to do. Don't think too much about it because the heart wants what it wants, Parker."

Peter gazed at you for a few moments, perhaps finding the right words to say but he just shook his head and fought against his feelings. "I can't do it, y/n. I badly want to, like, it's already at the tip of my tongue. I badly want to tell her but I can't. I don't want to know what's gonna happen next. I'm just scared of what's gonna happen. I don't think I can take it."

As much as you wanted to convince him to go for the girl, you let it go. You've said what you had to say but it was always up to him whether he takes your advice or not. "So, what now?"

"Well now, I'm going to tell you the good news, the one you robbed me off when you batted in."

You rolled your eyes. "What's the good news, Parker?"

"Me and my colleagues will go on a corporate retreat for at least a week!"

You raised an eyebrow, writing a confused expression on your face. "How is this good news?"

"I'll be gone for a week, away from the city, away from my love problems and all that. I think it'll be good for me." Then, a smile started to form on his lips. "There, I'll leave all my worries behind."

"Parker, it's just a one-week corporate retreat, not a sabbatical." You grimaced, unimpressed with the whole thing. "You're not gonna get over this thing in just seven days."

"You don't know that." He scoffed. "I'll be a new man once I get back. You'll see."

"Sure." You replied, a hint of sarcasm laced in your tone.

"Oh, one more thing!"

"What, another corporate retreat?" You snickered, amused with all the clever remarks you were throwing at him. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't.

"No!" He gave you a look. "Bucky will look after you while I'm gone!"

Shock crossed your face. "Bucky?"

"Yes, me."

And on cue, a figure emerged behind Peter.

You were so bewildered with Peter's troubles that you hadn't noticed Bucky creeping up towards the counter. He was wearing what seemed like a navy blue tailored Hugo Boss suit, paired with a nice, sleek tie. His whole fit, illuminated by the iridescent lights made his blue eyes pop even more. Like last time, he opened up a button on his waist, tossed the end flaps in the air and sat down beside Peter on a high stool.

Watching him, you could feel the air around you tighten, paired with a clump of saliva caught in your throat. He placed his elbow on top of the counter and tucked his chin on his palm.

"B-bucky," you finally breathed, silently choking up on your own saliva, "hey, it's been quite some time."

"Hello, doll." The vowels on his words seemed to drop, accompanied by that rhythmic sound he usually does when he speaks. Oh god, one day with Bucky and I've already picked up on that, you thought. "Missed me?"

You felt some blood quickly rushing to your cheeks but you played it cool. "Don't flatter yourself, James." You pretended to get quite busy, wiping some clean glass off the counter then faced Peter. "So, what's this thing about Bucky looking after me?"

"Well, I'll be gone. You'll be alone. Bucky will look after you." Peter tried to "expound." "What's not adding up, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes at the two and scoffed, placing the glass on the counter. "No, thanks. It's just one week. I can take care of myself."

It was true. You once spent a two-week vacation all by yourself to California after high school and you came home in New Jersey without a scratch -- like a brand-new car. You walked around the place as if it was your turf, and blended in with the locals while basked in the glorious heat of the California sun.

"Bucky insisted." Peter chimed in defensively.

"Oh. Bucky insisted." You said, your gaze averting to Bucky's eyes. "Again, I appreciate the offer but I can handle myself. I'm not a baby."

Bucky, clearly amused with the whole situation, leaned back with careful eyes fixed on yours. "Come on, y/n, don't you want some company?"

"Aren't you busy with your company?" You retorted.

"Yes, I have been but not anymore." He replied. "Unless something comes up. A week without Peter must be somewhat lonely. Come on," he insisted once again, "it's also for me. It'll give me something to do for a week."

"Wait, what?"

"You guys could get to know each other better and get along!" Peter blurted. "And without me around, Bucky won't have someone to hangout with. Please, y/n? I'd feel so much better."

"Hang out? What are you guys, like sixteen?"

Your mind was still set on Bucky's last choice of words but you saved it for later.

"Pleaaaaseee?"

You sighed, knowing you could never refuse your best friend's pleas. "Fine."

"Great!"

"Just for the record," you said, holding up a finger, "I'm just agreeing because of Peter, not because I can't take care of myself."

Peter rolled his eyes while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, yeah, you're an independent woman. Okay, I gotta take this call. I'll be right back."

And all then there were two: you and Bucky. While making two grasshoppers for a couple of girls who just entered, you could feel Bucky's intense stare towards you. Your mind, clouded with thoughts, wished it could tap into his and take a sly look at what was going on inside.

You locked eyes as soon as you handed the girls their drinks. Bucky wearing such a neat, tailored suit made you forget about all his child-like ways in Peter's countless stories. All you saw was a man favored by all the gods and at the same time sent by the devil to test you in so many ways imaginable. You wondered if he felt the same. Of course, you weren't like him or any other people carved perfectly by the gods, but his vehement stare said otherwise.

"Are you gonna order a drink?" You asked, breaking the silence, and also your train of thoughts.

"No." He replied. "I'm good."

"Okay."

Peter, where the hell are you?

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yes?"

"You look beautiful tonight."

A plain black tank top, paired with some old jeans, minimal makeup and this man just told you that you looked beautiful. "Well not just tonight. You've always been beautiful. I just hope you know that."

"Okay what has gotten into you? You're being... weird."

He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts."

You hummed, a look of confusion spread across your face. "Thank you, I guess. Y-you look good yourself. Very different from when I first met you." You chuckled.

"Well, I was naked the first time we met so yeah."

Peter got back from his phone call and for the whole night, you spent your time working your shift while Bucky and Peter moved on to play some billiards and darts as well. Nat kept shifting her eyes between you and Bucky and you just shrugged her off, flipping your middle finger on her in which she reciprocated.

The next day, Peter was all set for his corporate retreat, surprised he didn't need any help from me at all. You helped him with some of his bags towards the sidewalk ("Jesus, Parker, are you going out of the country?"). While you waited for his Uber to arrive.

"You better take care of yourself, Parker." You said, standing beside him on the side of the street. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Really? I'm gonna miss you too."

"Well, yeah, of course. You're like a little brother to me." You smiled, ruffling his brown locks even though he was taller than you.

He looked down on the pavement with a tight-lipped smile. "Right, right."

Smiling, you grabbed his hand and leaned your head on his surprisingly broad shoulders. "Come on, cheer up. You needed this, right?"

"Yes, I definitely do." He whispered. "More than you know."

A few seconds later, the Uber arrived. Before climbing in the black vehicle, you were pulled into Peter's embrace with a soft, fluttery kiss landing on your forehead. Taken aback, you just smiled at him and watched the car get tinier and tinier as it drove further.

You got back in the apartment and five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Behind it was a smiling Bucky wearing some casual clothes. "Good morning, doll. Missed me?"

You rolled your eyes letting him inside the apartment. Closing the door behind me, you replied: "You've already used that line last night. Pick another one."

"Aw, you haven't heard the rest of it."

You went to the kitchen, grabbed some water from the fridge, and took a drink. "Which is?"

"Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

With unsteady hands, you choked on your water and felt the liquid on your skin as soon as those words left Bucky's mouth. Great now I spilled the drink on my chest.

You turned around only to be faced by Bucky. "Now I gotta what?"

His laughter echoed in the kitchen as he backed away from you. "I'm just messing with you. So, what's for breakfast?"

He left you there standing flabbergasted, with some water dripping down your top and shorts, down to the floor. You bore your eyes into the back of his head as he turned on the television.

Bucky tilted his head towards you, eyed you up and down and finished it with a swipe of his tongue on his lower lip.

Oh, this was going to be a long week.

A long, agonizing week.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Twenty Four)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twenty Three ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Twenty Five

Marnie pov.

The sensation is like being punched in the stomach. You lose your breath and immediately feel a terrible pain gnawing through your entire body, reaching down to your last strand of hair. Your heart starts pumping blood faster, so that your body can overcome the pain and you have the strength to fight back, but I can't.

I can't get over the pain. I can't react better than staring at Pamela wearing his shirt, in his room. I can't move, let alone make my brain work to process all this. What is she doing here?

“What…” my voice barely has the strength to come out.

That wasn't the plan. She shouldn't be here. Luke called her? Have they been talking? How long has she been with him? I don't remember seeing pictures of them together recently. Does it also have John's finger in it?

"Marnie? I can't believe you actually came. God damn is a lot of courage, or lack of notion, I don't know.” she looks at me in utter disapproval.

I focus my eyes inside the room, wanting to find any clue that it wasn't Luke's room. It can not be. But everything indicates, unfortunately, I'm wrong. The boots at the door, the coat on the armchair, the guitar on the sofa, the scattered candles. It's his room. Shit, it's his room.

“What are you doing here?” I gather forces to confront.

“Stop it, Marnie. We are not innocent little children. We both know very well what I'm doing here. The question is, what are you doing here?” Pamela crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows.

For the first time in years since I've known her, I feel intimidated. Tiny against her. The slightest thought that Luke is with her makes me nauseous. I suck air, in an attempt to maintain my pose, even fragile.

“I came to talk to Luke. We have business to attend to. Where is he?” I move towards the bedroom, but she stops me.

“First, you have nothing else to deal with. It’s over. You ended it all yourself. Which, honestly, came as a shock to me. Nothing personal, but I always thought Luke would kick you.”

My breath catches, giving signs that I'm about to cry, and I can't bear the thought of doing it in front of her. My chest starts to rise and fall fast, demonstrating that her words are having an effect on me.

“Second, Luke is in the shower, as you can hear.” for the first time, my ears pick up the sound of the shower running. “It's been a long afternoon.” Pam flashes a disgusting smile. She lets out a short laugh.

I hug my body, wanting to get out of there or scream for someone to help me. But my voice doesn't seem to work. My brain doesn't seem to work. On the way here I even prepared myself for the sad possibility of running into Luke with just any girl, but not Pamela.

“Look, I know you must think I hate you and all that bullshit, but I never had anything against you. Even because deep down I knew that Luke's crush on you wouldn't last. I've known him for years and I know what he's like. He lives in moments and yours is gone.”

Pamela rests her hand on my shoulder, looking deep into my eyes. A chill runs through my body and all I feel is embarrassament. Embarrassed to be here. That Luke would want to see and hear me. To think that maybe he was waiting for me. That maybe everything would work out.

"If I can give you a hint as a friend, as a woman, if you like. Leave before Luke sees you here at his door and you have to be embarrassed more than you already are. Seriously. After everything that happened you come here?!” Pamela makes a face. “I mean, I was kinda hoping, but deep down, I thought you'd be better than that and not lend yourself to this ridiculous role. I say this for your own good.”

Nothing.

I can't say anything. I can't react. I can't even explode internally. I just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear.

“Well, since we've taken care of everything, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for the show. Bye-bye.”

Pam doesn't even give me time to listen to what she says, and closes the door in my face, locking it. I stare at the wood for a few more seconds, before the pain engulfs me alive. My heart beats so slow and so deep that for a moment I think I'm going to pass out.

A sob echoes down the hallway announcing my crying. I force myself out of there, before any of them see me, before Luke sees me like this. Just imagining him looking at me with contempt for showing up there makes everything worse inside me.

I try helplessly to dry my tears, not wanting to cry anymore about it. I feel my body heavy with weariness. I can't take it anymore. I just want to get into bed and disappear into the sheets. My mind feels sluggish, also exhausted from struggling to think of solutions for how to get back to what I had before. Exhausted from deluding myself and getting disappointed by reality.

I walk down the hall, swallowing my tears with all the strength I have left, forcing myself to hold my ground, but I lose focus when I hear that whistle and just see him enter the hallway. I stop in my tracks, wondering if I'm fantasizing. I heard the shower.

I take a step back, not knowing what to do, watching the tall Australian walk towards me, focused on his phone, not noticing my presence. For seconds I'm rooting for it, but I know it's impossible. And I think deep down, I don't want to either. I want him to look at me, to feel his heart race, the same way I'm feeling mine right now.

Luke stops whistling when he sees me. He looks so different from the boy I met at Ash's party, or the man I saw when I woke up in that hospital. He looked a little thinner and his eyes were deep because of the dark circles under. How long has he not slept? I let myself drown in his blue eyes, which look more intense now. I delete everything, focusing only on him. Amnesia. John. Pamela, everything seems to disappear from my mind.

I lean against the wall, feeling the hallway spin. He's here. After a month away from him, he's here, so close I can smell his scent. I take a deep breath, taking an uncertain step toward him. It's time to settle this.

Before I can control myself, I walk faster towards him, bumping into his body, hugging him. It takes Luke a few seconds to process what was happening, but as soon as he realizes it's really me there, his arms go around me, squeezing me tightly.

I inhale his perfume, letting that fragrance run through my bloodstream, causing a tingle through my body and waking up the long-sleeping butterflies in my stomach.

“My God, you're here.” Luke whispers, pulling away a little, cupping my face. “Please say I'm not hallucinating.” he caresses my cheeks.

“You’re not! I'm here.” I crack a smile through my tears, hugging him again.

“Damn! I missed you so much.” his voice makes my body shiver.

His nervous and anxious hands run all over my body, squeezing me, making sure more and more I'm here. I don't judge him, as I do the same, touching his shoulders, arms and neck. Like a defibrillator shock, my body pulses when I feel his lips on my neck. Before I get distracted, I step away from him, keeping a safe distance, not letting emotion outweigh reason.

"We need to talk." we ended up talking together.

“Sorry, you first. What are you doing here?” Luke asks, smoothing his hair.

“I came to talk to you about what happened. I came to tell you the truth.” Luke takes a step towards me, touching my waist. Once again the touch releases a shock through my body, causing me to crave more.

“Okay. Come on! Let's talk.” he guides me towards the bedroom. I stop my steps when I notice. Luke looks at me confused and it all comes back to me. Pamela.

"What's Pamela doing in your room?" the question comes out before I think.

“What?” he ends up screaming, which echoes down the hall. “Oh shit! Okay, she's in my room, but that's not what you're thinking, Marnie. She soiled her shirt and I went down to buy a new one.” he explains quickly, stumbling over a few words.

I think about refuting his words, but the bedroom door opens, revealing a confused Calum looking sideways, eyes widening as soon as he sees me. I can't control my smile seeing your face after weeks.

"Marnie?" he asks, taking a step out of the room.

"Marnie?" I hear Ashton's louder voice, which in a few seconds, bursts through the door, nearly running over Calum, coming quickly towards me.

I let out a scream as his arms wrap around me, lifting me off the ground and rolling me in midair. Within seconds, still hugging Ashton, I feel more people joining the two of us.

“What do you do here?” Ash asks, confused.

“I came to talk to Luke.” I refocus on the blonde, who looked anxious and a little jealous “Actually, with all of you somehow. I came to tell you what happened and it's still happening.”

The four look at each other suspiciously, but agree. I approach Luke, still nervous, not knowing if I could pull him by the hand, even if I wanted to.

“I need to leave this in the bedroom. I will meet you in Michael's room.” Hemmings warns, taking on a serious expression, turning away from me.

I watch him enter the room and close the door. I remember Pamela in there and my stomach turns. Ash takes my hand, pulling me into Mike's room. With every step I take, I don't take my eyes off door 1504, wishing it would open fast, but it remains closed. Why is he taking so long?

I walk into Michael's room, finding Sophie standing there, twisting her fingers with a huge smile on her face. I walk towards her, greeting her with a hug.

“Good to see you again.” she reveals, taking me by surprise, after all we don't spend a lot of time together.

“Are you okay? Want something? Do you need something?” Michael starts to ask.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Where's your arm cast?" Calum points.

“If it's not there…” Ashton looks at his friend teasingly.

“I took it out! My arm has already healed.” I answer Calum, ignoring sassy Irwin.

"What about amnesia? How are you?” Ash asks.

At that moment, I hold my breath. I focused so much on talking about John that I completely forgot about the end of amnesia. I open my mouth, working out a way to tell this without affecting the initial plan, unmasking John.

Lucky for me, someone knocks on the door and Michael rushes it open, revealing Luke. I notice her slightly flushed cheeks and her dark eyes. He's not okay. Awkwardly, I get up from the couch, facing him, as if it's the first time we've been seeing each other. I wait for him to take the seat beside me, but he takes a seat in the front, far away.

“ I'm going to take a walk at the hotel, it seems like a serious conversation.” Sophie gets up, but I stop her.

“No! Stay! It will be good for you to be aware of that too.”

Finally Sophie takes her seat beside me, putting me between her and Ashton. I scan everyone there who looks more terrified than I am. The time has come. I take a deep breath, feeling my mouth reach out. I thought I would be more prepared.

“I didn't do everything I did just because I wanted to. I never wanted to leave LA, nor ignore your attempts at contact, let alone break up whatever I was having.” I look at Luke, who looks away awkwardly.

"So what happened?" Calum asks. I take a few more deep breaths, taking in my courage.

"John manipulated me. It made me believe I was getting in your way. That my image was getting in your way.” the words come out at once.

I catch my eye on them, finding Michael, Cal, and Ash looking at each other in shock and Luke staring at me aloof.

“Wait, when did this happen?” Michael questions.

“On Friends of Friends day. I bumped into him leaving the studio. He asked if we could talk. At that moment he just wanted me to convince Luke and you guys to take that trip to promote the singles, remember?! And I was going to do it. But then the music came and he freaked out. He said that either I walked away or he damaged the band and I didn't want to take any risks.”

Dead silence fills the room. I start to take a deep breath, nervous about the reactions. Ash rubbed his forehead, upset. Calum was slumped in his chair, staring into space. Michael blinked rapidly, sighing. Poor Sophie didn't even move and Luke, staring at me with a frown.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Luke's voice finally reaches my ears. I stare at him, intimidated. He still looks confused.

"I didn't know if I should. I was scared, didn't I think t-”

“But we talked about it. Several times.” he interrupts me, standing up.

“Yes! Before amnesia. But then we never talked about John or what he tried to do to both of us. I was afraid of harming you, I didn't want to risk a threat. If it weren't for the amnesia, I wouldn't have listened to him.”

"And what made you change your mind now?" he folds his arms.

It's like a bucket of cold water. I prepared so much for this moment. For Luke not to want to listen to me. Listening to me and not wanting me back, but I didn't prepare myself for that.

I analyze your expression and body posture. He looks at me like he doesn't know me. As if I was saying something out of the reality that we live.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I suck in air, missing him.

I blink several times, processing the information and adapting to the new scenario. I rub my hands on my pants, feeling sweaty and cold.

“I'm not saying that, Marnie." he approaches. I stand up, wanting distance.

“You don't have to, it's in your face.” I accuse him.

“The point is, it's a sensitive topic. It's a pretty serious charge, he's our manager.” Luke raises his voice.

Nausea and irritation is all I feel. Luke doesn't believe me. I thought that would be impossible considering our background with John, but apparently I'm wrong.

“You know you could have told me.” Hemmings continues, getting irritated too.

“No, Luke! I couldn't. Because I didn't know. I had amnesia. I had no idea how to handle all of this. Fame, money, media. I didn't have any preparation. I got thrown into it. I had to learn from day to day, without an instruction manual. I sacrificed my happiness for you.”

“I never asked you to.” he points a finger at me.

Once again I lose my breath. I don't recognize it. In fact, I even recognize this posture. That's why we fought so much in the beginning. But it's not the same Luke. At least not mine.

"I didn't think it was necessary." my voice cracks.

“Marnie, the point is, it doesn't make sense. John spent this entire month taking care of me and asking me if I wanted him to talk to you, to try to get you to see me. And now, you arrive saying that he forced you to leave? You did have a chance to ask for help-”

“For you? For you do what, Luke? Argue with him like you always did and then you guys have to hear from the record company for ‘going against the manager's orders’? I'm sorry if I wanted to stop you from sticking your feet in and that it harms you more.” I end up screaming.

A sob escapes me and I realize I'm crying. That was the last thing I wanted.

"And how kind of him to act like he really cares about us. Even cuz he never interfered between us, right? He never insinuated that I cheated on you with Ashton and a million other people. Or that you were always drunk during the tours, causing trouble with the team. No! John has always been a saint.”

“M&Ms…” Luke tries to hold me back, but the touch annoys me.

“No!” I walk away. "I'm tired of this. I came to warn you about John and that's what I did. The decision is now yours.” I ignore everyone looking at us.

I grab my bag and march to the door. Luke still calls out to me, but I completely ignore it, feeling my body heavy as if I've competed in a triathlon.

I open the door, stopping abruptly. I stare at Ashton who's already on his feet.

“About my amnesia.” I turn my gaze to Luke, who has his jaw set. "It’s over." the last thing I see is his pupils dilate. I walk down the hall, hearing Ash call me, but I don't stop.

I choose the stairs, not wanting anyone to reach me waiting for the elevator. I manage to go down two flights, but unfortunately Ashton catches me.

“Hey! Listen me.” he yells as I try to break free. “I believe you. Okay?”

So I stop. My head stills for two minutes, reminding me of the fact that Luke didn't believe me. I cover my face, crying, letting Ashton pull me into his body, hugging me.

“Ignore everything Luke said. I don't think anyone expected that. He just doesn't know how to handle it. He believes in you, just let him take it all in.” Ash pats my back, rocking me like a baby.

“It was so hard to hold all that and walk away. And now that I remembered everything and saw that I could count on you.” My throat closes up, intensifying my crying.

“It's okay! It's gonna be okay. I promise you.” he squeezes me tighter.

I start to let go when I hear hurried footsteps on the stairs. Ash steps in front of me, but relaxes when Sophie enters our field of vision. I turn onto my back, trying to dry my face, embarrassed.

“Sorry, we were worried about her. Michael took the elevator down. Calum and Luke are upstairs. Luke wants to talk to you, Marnie.”

A fake laugh comes out as I shake my head no. If I see Luke now, it will make everything worse.

"I don't want to see him. I want to leave.” I go back down the flights to the next floor, calling the elevator.

I notice Sophie and Ash beside me. We walked down the path in pure silence, while I still shed tears of sadness and anger. As soon as the door opens, I head toward where Eddie had been standing, finding him standing, talking to Michael.

I ignore Clifford's presence, hugging my friend and begging him to get me out of there. Edward hugs me a little scared and starts pulling me out of the hotel.

“Can I go with you?” I hear Sophie's voice reluctantly. Everyone stares at her, who blushes. "I don't want you to be alone."

I look over at Michael, who just shakes his head, giving the girl a quick peck before she rushes to my side.

“Wait!” Irwin asks. “Where are you? I want to see you after the show. Know better about what happened.”

"I'll text you."

I say goodbye to them one more time and hug Eddie, I head to the black sedan that was on the other side of the street. I can feel my friend's eagerness to know what happened, but Edward controls himself, leaving me quiet in my corner, mulling over every word I hear.

Luke didn't believe me.

Luke pov.

I still hadn't processed everything that was going on. It was supposed to be a normal day, I didn't imagine I would meet Marnie in the hallway of my room. Yes, I thought about trying to go after her, thought about calling, but I couldn't stand the idea of ​​her despising me.

Then, like a miracle, I see her there, like the first time I saw her. Her hair was long and dark, like she was twenty-one again. I was afraid it was a piece of my mind, wasn’t really there, but it was.

The moment I felt her in my arms, it was like coming back to life. My body relaxed for the first time since she was gone. I felt the blood rush through my veins and pump my heart like never before. She's here.

My hands touched her entire body, wanting to confirm her presence, wanting to feel her touch. My lips tingled, begging for hers. I don't even know why she showed up, but I just knew I never wanted her to go again.

But she is gone.

It slipped through my fingers and I couldn't even hold it back. Why did I have to argue? Why did I have to debate? What a damn habit of arguing with her. Just listen. She was there, in front of me, so close. Then I could be alone with her. I could fix everything, but no. No, I had to be an asshole.

The bedroom door opens, showing Michael and Ashton. I get up, looking for Marnie's small body behind them, but they're alone.

“She left.” Ashton replies, even before I open my mouth.

"Did you let her go?" a rage born within me.

“No! I didn't do anything, Luke. You let her go. Was it hard to listen in silence? She comes here risking everything if John catches her, and you dispute what she says?” Irwin wears an expression as irritated as mine.

“What the fuck! I didn't object! But it is a serious charge. It's going to be her word against his and who do you think will win this shit?” I shout. "John can finish her off and you think I want that?! I just wanted to be completely sure what she was talking about. Evidence, I don't know. Things that could protect her. Things that ensure that I can protect her.”

“She doesn't want to gain anything, Luke. She wants you. She wants you to be by her side, no matter what. She wants you to believe her. Yeah, all this shit took me by surprise too. John has been with us for four or five years and has always taken care of us, but we can't pretend we don't know he's gone overboard a few times.”

“Few times?” Mike whistles, shaking his head. “Several times, and we talked about it a lot. Girls, birthday parties, special holidays. If don't agree with what he agrees with, he sticks his finger in the middle.”

I know John is not the best person in the world. He has every possible flaw. But I don't want to believe he got to that point. Threatening Marnie, forcing her to walk away from me.

I knew it was a lie. When she said she couldn't fall in love with me. I could see in her eyes that she was lying. So why couldn't I see that she needed help?

I should have gone after her. I should have come to New York before. Put her against the wall no matter how many times she yelled at me. But I let her go. I let it slip through my fingers.

“No. No. You're not going after her now.” Ashton, stop me.

"I thought I was supposed to be by her side." I retort, annoyed.

“And it is you idiot, but like that, in this state, you're just going to argue more. Remember what she said, ‘putting everything down’? We cannot do this now. Cool your head, organize your ideas and then you go after it. I arranged to see her after the show, to find out more details.”

"Why you and not me?" I cross my arms.

“Because I didn't argue with the girl. Pay attention.” he raises his tone, slapping my head. "I'll check her and then I'll try to convince her to talk to you. Now let's get ready for the show and stay calm. Let's go.”

Reluctantly, I head to my room, heading straight for a shower. I press my forehead against the wall, letting thoughts race through my mind. I go over the whole situation. I am very unlucky.

First, when I'm about to get rid of Pam, she ‘accidentally’ stains her shirt. Afterwards, I only leave the room for 20 minutes, but that's long enough for Marnie to show up and pick up Pamela. Then I manage to make her stay and tell me the truth and finally I shit everything up.

My heart sinks as my head shows me her teary eyes, looking at me like I'm a stranger.

I remember when she looked at me like that in the hospital and it was the worst pain in the world. I shouldn't have suspected her. I shouldn't. I finish my shower, heading to bed, lying down, not wanting to go to the show. I just wanted to stay here and pray that Ash would convince her to talk to me again. But I didn't have much choice.

Unfortunately, we still had an hour to go and I know that until then I'm going to get bogged down in my thoughts.

[...]

I go out the side of the stage, with my head still in the clouds. From the hotel to the studio, until taking the stage, I was silent, mulling over my mistake. I texted Marnie, but they didn't even come.

“What a show, guys. You rock it.” John congratulates us in the dressing room.

I notice everyone looking at each other, uncomfortable. I stare at John, wondering at the mood, but keeping that fake smile. I imagine him intimidating Marnie, leaving her terrified. Making her run away. I see her face in the back of my mind the day she broke up with me. Her apology before walking out the door.

I can feel my face hardening, as my heart races, making me take a deep breath. Without being able to analyze my thoughts and control my attitudes, I march to John, with that anger rising through my body.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Calum rising quickly and moving closer. John wipes the smirk off his face, taking on a worried face now.

"Did you tell Marnie to get away from me?" I question.

Letterman runs his eyes past me and the guys behind me. I feel Michael's hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I want to scream at him to answer, but John lets out a low laugh.

“That bitch even took a while to open her mouth.”

I hold my breath. Feeling that punch in the pit of your stomach. Now it was Calum and Ash's hand joining Michael's, trying to pull me away from John.

“What did you say?” I blow, with my chest swelling more.

“I told her to stay away from you, because if it weren't for me, you'd be in deep shit. Staying in Los Angeles taking care of that retarted while your career sinks, that's the-”

The movement is very fast. I manage to untangle my arm from Michael's grip and land a punch to the bastard's nose, sending him staggering backward. I step forward to hit more, however the three of them step in front of me, pushing me to the wall.

I know I'm yelling disconnected stuff, just to debate John, but I want to get him one more punch. For the band, for me and for my girl.

“Let me go!” I yell to the three of them just as Hale the security pulls Letterman out of the room.

"What the fuck was that?" Ash asks, his eyes wide.

"I couldn't look at his face knowing everything he did. I needed to confront. And did you hear him talking about her?” I pace, panting from adrenaline. “That son of a bitch. I will finish him.”

I advance towards the door. But the three of them hold me back.

“You're not going to do any shit. That's exactly what Marnie didn't want you to do.” Calum, push me to the couch.

“We have to deal with this.” Irwin begins. "We have to get John out of his post, otherwise he'll hurt us and Marnie."

Marnie.

I close my eyes, touching myself now from the shit I've done. Again. John knows Marnie told me and maybe he'll go after her to do something. I can't let him get close to her again.

"Where are you going?" Mike asks, watching me grab my wallet.

"I'm going after my girlfriend." I head for the door, willing to get anyone out of my way.

"Ashton didn't say to wait until tomorrow?" Hood asks.

“Screw this.”

It's the last thing I say before striding down the halls. I dodge a few photographers, giving a fake smile so as not to feed the headlines, and get in the car, trying to get in touch with her.

The problem is, she doesn't answer me. Who can help me? Who can help me? I scroll through the list of contacts, looking for the only name that could help me right now.

“Leah? I need Marnie's address, please.” I say as soon as she answers.

“I'm going to stick a stiletto heel up your ass, Hemmings. What kind of shit do you have in your head?” she screams. I roll my eyes.

“I know I screwed up and I'm trying to fix it. Can you give me the address or not?” I scream, irritated.

“Okay, but I didn't tell you.”

I give the address to the driver, feeling the anxiety rise within me with every street and traffic light the car crosses. I stop in front of a tall building, running to the interphone. I find her last name and dig my finger into the button.

Come on, Marnie! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me!

“Yes?” I recognize the male voice, the same as that day.

"Where's Marnie? I need to talk to her? Marnie, please, please listen to me.” The words slur as I speak into the microphone.

“Marnie isn't here, Luke.” the voice calmly warns me.

“What?”

I need to lean against the wall, feeling my blood pressure drop. Where is she? I look around, as if that's how I'm going to find her. Not again.

“Go up. I'll explain it to you better.”

The door unlocks and I rush inside. In the elevator, I force my mind to unravel where she could have gone. She came to New York a few times, but she never had a favorite place.

In the hallway, I spot this Edward, or Eddie, as Ashton called it, standing outside the apartment. I walk towards him, lost.

“Hi, I'm Edward. I was responsible for Marnie this month.” he holds out his hand, which I shake politely.

“Luke.” I introduce myself.

Edward invites me into the apartment. A shiver runs when her scent hugs me. I take a quick look at the decor, not finding my girlfriend's taste there. But that's not what I came to do.

"Where is she?" I turn to the boy.

“She left.” he sets a glass of water in front of me. “I know what happened. And I know why you're here. I also know you're going after her, but I just want to say something. Marnie is really hurt. For everything. She left, looking for help. She said something about a Dr. Prescott.”

“It's her psychologist.” I stop him, even with the lump in my throat.

“I know she loves you and I know you do too. So the only thing I ask, Luke, is that you take care of her like never before. She is a very special friend and I would hate to see her get any worse.”

The fact that she's running to Dr. Prescott again makes my stomach churn in fear. She helped Marnie through the worst time in her life and it breaks me to think she's living another one.

“Where did she go?” I sniffle, trying to control myself, to think clearly.

“She went home.” he raises his eyebrows. "Just got on a jet to Los Angeles."

I nod, not being able to speak. I thank Eddie, walking away, not wanting a stranger to see me cry. I think of the weight Marnie has borne all this time alone and fear that I have lost her forever.

Marnie pov.

I get out of the shower, sitting up in bed, thinking. After I left the hotel and got home, I told Eddie everything, and he stared at me in amazement. Even he, who had never met Luke, didn't expect that he would believe me.

After telling it all, I sank down on the couch in silence, trying to organize my thoughts and not drown in the darkness that surrounded me. Sophie stood next to me, not leaving me alone for a second, while Eddie went out to make some calls. I know that he was warning Leah, for the simple fact that she had been calling me non-stop.

The clock was ticking close to 7 pm when I started to insist to Sophie that I was fine and that she could meet Michael at the show. That's when the doorbell rang. From the couch I watched Eddie go to the door and come back lost.

“What's wrong?” I question.

“It's John!” he says with his jaw clenched.

“What?” I jump off the couch, walking to the door on tiptoe.

John was standing on the other side, looking not good at all. I take steps backwards, feeling the air shortage in me. Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Luke had messed up. I knew it. I knew it.

“Sophie, come up. Please.” I order, trying to organize my head.

“No! I'm not leaving you with this guy.” she approaches.

“If he sees you here, you'll become his next target. If you're not already. Climb up and be quiet. Please.” I beg this time. I turn to Eddie.

“You can kneel, whatever, I'm not leaving you with this guy.” Eddie says, not even giving me a chance to speak.

“I wasn't going to ask that. Please don't leave my side.”

Fear. Total dread of what might happen when I answer the door. I don't know what he knows or doesn't know, or what he might do, but I don't want to find out. With Eddie standing a little behind me, I open the door facing John.

“What a pleasure to see you home, Miss McGonagall. I think we missed each other at the hotel. Since you arrived just as I left. What a coincidence, don't you think?” he lets out a harsh laugh.

“I don't know what-”

“Spare me your lame excuse. A little bird told me that you were there and that you talked to the boys.”

My body freezes at this moment. I didn't see anyone but the boys. Just some security guards. Fuck.

“Do you really think I wasn't preparing for you to show up?! I knew you wouldn't obey our agreement.”

“What are you going to do now? They already know about you.”

“But they didn't believe you.” I close my face. “That's the difference between you and me, Marnie, I know how to manipulate them. You don't. But I admire you for trying. I didn't think you'd have the courage to show up anyway. For you to see how I'm not the monster you think I am, I'll reconsider this slip. But if it happens again, I'll finish you off.”

I don't blink, staring at John with my eyes. I press my hand against the wood, wanting to actually punch him, but I wouldn't stand a chance. Letterman runs his eyes over Eddie, waving his fingers before he goes.

I slam the door angrily. I walk over to the couch feeling my legs weak. My head is heavy and my heart aches. Sophie comes slowly down the stairs.

“Sophie, you'd better go. If he gets there and doesn't see you, he might get suspicious.” I make it up, wanting to be alone.

“ I'll call a car for you.” my friend offers.

I don't wait another second, going up to my room and locking myself in. As soon as I hear the door slam, signaling that someone has left, I get up for a shower. With the deluded hope that the water would help me, that it would wash away my problems, but no.

Still sitting on the bed, I notice that the bath has not helped me at all. The help I need isn't here, and if I don't go after it now, I'll sink deeper and I'm afraid that later it will be too late.

I change and leave the room with my decision. I find Eddie sitting in the middle of the stairs, perhaps waiting for me. I sit down beside him, holding his arm and laying my head on his shoulder.

“I need to go away. I need my house. My family. My girls.” I begin, already feeling my voice cracking. “I can't take this anymore and I'm afraid of what might happen to me. I am so exhausted from falling, I don't think I have the strength to try anymore. I'm not well. I need help.”

The crying becomes overwhelming. Edward says nothing, just hugging me. I don't know how long we lay there, but he was in no hurry until my crying ceased, or in this case, subsided.

“When do you want to leave?” he asks.

“As soon as possible.” I answer softly.

“Pack your bags, I'll see what I can do.” he gets up and pulls out his phone.

“Eddie.” I hold him, pulling him into a hug. “I can't thank you enough for everything and for not giving up on me.” I squeeze him.

“Be well and take care. That's how you'll thank me.” he leaves a kiss on my cheek, before continuing to try a flight for me.

[...]

Everything was set up in less than 40 minutes. All it took was a few phone calls and the use of my name and I was on a jet to LA.

My mother and Leah had already been notified and were waiting for me at the airport. Because of the mess I had caused before leaving my apartment in LA, I would stay with Leah until my mother finished her makeover and then try to get back to my life.

I watch the city disappear into the clouds and lean back in my chair, trying to rid my mind of the millions of thoughts that surround me. I don't want to give up on Luke. I don't want to believe that those two years were just crazy thoughts in my head. But right now I know I need to take care of myself before I commit to anyone again.

I also need to let him think about everything I have confessed, because this affects not only our private lives, but also his professional one. After two hours of flight, I end up sleeping, only waking up when it's time to land in LA.

My heart seems to want to burst out of my mouth from so much anxiety. I grab my bag, quickly getting off the plane. I visualize my mother and Leah standing arm in arm, waiting for me. I run to them, feeling relieved to return to my safe haven, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

I was supposed to post it earlier, but I got a new cell phone after 6 years and got too excited and forgot to update it.

Please, don't be mad at me, I promise that soon everything will be fine between Luke and Marnie.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 17

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Harry manages not to shout out, but it is a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears, and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls and for some reason, Harry associates the green of the creature's eyes with (Y/n)'s green eyes.

As they stare at each other, Harry hears Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

The creature slips off the bed and bows so low that the end of its long, thin nose touches the carpet. Harry notices that is wearing what looks like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm - and leg - holes.

"Er - hello," says Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" says the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry is sure would carry down the stairs. "So long Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is . . ."

"Th - thank you," says Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who is asleep in her large cage. He wants to ask, "What are you?" but thinks it sounded too rude, so instead, he says, "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," says the creature.

"Oh — really?" says Harry. "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

Aunt Petunia's high, false laughs sounds from the living room. The elf hangs his head.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," says Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," says Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin . . ."

"Sit down," says Harry politely, pointing at the bed.

To his horror, the elf bursts into tears - very noisy tears.

"S - sit down! he wails. "Never . . . never ever . . . "

Harry thinks he hears the voices downstairs falter.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"

"Offend Dobby!" chokes the elf. "Dobby had never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal -"

Harry, trying to say Shh! and look comforting at the same time, ushers Dobby back to the bed where he sits hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last, he manages to control himself, and sits with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shakes his head. Then, without warning, he leaps up and starts banging his head furiously on teh window, shouting, Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hisses, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed - Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and is beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby has to punish himself, sir," says the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . ."

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir . . . Dobby is a house-elf - bound to serve one house and family forever . . ."

"Do they know you're here?" asks Harry curiously.

Dobby shudders.

"Oh, no, sir, no . . . Dobby will have go punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir -"

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby will have to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments . . ."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free . . . Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir. . . ."

Harry stares. "And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he says. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Almost at once, Harry wishes he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolves again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Harry whispers frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here -"

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby . . . Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . . ."

Harry, who is feeling distinctly hot in the face says, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts: that's Hermione, she -"

But Harry stops quickly, because thinking about Hermione is painful.

"Harry potter is humble and modest," says Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Voldemort?" asks Harry.

Dobby claps his hands over his bat ears and moans, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," Harry apologizes quickly. "I know a lot of people don't like it. My friend Ron -" Harry stops again. Thinking about Ron is painful, too.

Dobby leans towards Harry, his eyes wide as headlights. "Dobby heard tell, he says hoarsely, "That Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) escaped yet again."

Harry nods and Dobby's eyes suddenly shine with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasps, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he is wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already. But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he doesn't have to shut his ears in the oven door later . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There is a silence, broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"W-what?" Harry stammers. "But I've got to go back - term starts on September first. It's all that's been keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at Hogwarts.

"No, no, no," squeaks Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flap. "Harry Potter must stay where his is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" Harry asks in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispers Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" says Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby makes a funny choking noise and then bangs his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cries Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought strikes him. "Hang on - this hasn't got anything to do with Vol - sorry - with You-Know-How, has it? You could just shake or nod," he adds hastily as Dobby's head tilts worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shakes his head.

"Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir —" But Dobby's eyes are wide and he seems to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, is completely lost.

"He hasn't gotten a brother, has he?" Harry asks.

Dobby shakes his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," says Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing - you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bows his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's  powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" — Dobby's voice drops to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't . . . powers no decent wizard . . ."

And before Harry can stop him, Dobby bounds off the bed, seizes Harry's desk lamp, and starts beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence falls downstairs. Two seconds later, Harry, heart thudding madly, hears Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! In the closet!" hisses Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself on the bed just as the door handle turns.

"What - the - devil - are - you - doing?" says Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke . . . One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy." Uncle Vernon stomps flat-footed from the room.

Shaking, Harry lets Dobby out of the closet.

"See what it's like here?" he says. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got - well, I think I've got friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter," says Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been - wait a minute," says Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffles his feet. "Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best -"

"Have you been stopping my letters?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," says the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulls a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase  he is wearing. Harry can makes out Hermione's neat writing, (Y/n)'s neat scrawl, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looks as though it is from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinks anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry . . . Dobby hoped . . . if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him . . . Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir . . ."

Harry isn't listening. He makes a grab for the letter, but Dobby jumps out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby is word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"No," says Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," says the elf sadly.

Before Harry can move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulls it open, and sprints down the stairs.

Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry springs after him, trying not to make a sound. He jumps the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet - feeling like (Y/n) for a moment - looking around for Dobby. From the dining room, he hears Uncle Vernon saying, " . . . tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear . . ."

Harry runs up the hall into the kitchen and feels his stomach disappear.

Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, is floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouches Dobby.

"No," croaked Harry. "Please . . . they'll kill me. . . ."

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby . . . please . . ."

"Say it, sir —"

"I can't —"

Dobby gives him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The pudding falls to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splatters the windows and walls as the dish shatters. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanishes.

There are screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon bursts into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia's pudding.

At first, it looks as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our nephew - very disturbed - meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs . . . ) He shoos the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry that he would flay him within an inch of his life when teh Mason's had left, and hands him a mop. Aunt Petunia digs some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry, still shaking, starts scrubbing the kitchen clean.

Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal - if it hadn't been for the owl.

Aunt Petunia is just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a hug barn owl swoops though the dining room window, drops a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swoops out again. Mrs. Mason screams like a banshee and runs from teh house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stays just enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife is mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this is their idea of a joke.

Harry stands in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advances on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.

"Read it!" he hisses evilly, brandishing the letter the owl nad delivered. "Go on - read it!"

Harry takes it. It does not contain birthday greetings.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place or residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to preform spells outside school and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under Section 13 of the Internation Confedeation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

Enjoy your holidays!

Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk Improper use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic

Harry looks up from the letter and gulps.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," says Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it . . . Slipped your mind, I daresay . . . " He is bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "Well, I've got news for you, boy . . . I'm locking you up . . . You're never going back to that school . . . never . . . and if you try and magic yourself out - they'll expel you!"

And, laughing like a maniac, Uncle Vernon drags Harry back upstairs.

. . .

(Y/n) runs up to the front door, and bursts inside the house, tackling Hermione in a tight hug.

Hermione throws down her book, and bursts into tears, hugging (Y/n) tightly.

(Y/n)'s emerald eyes soften, and she hugs Hermione tighter, the brunette's tears eventually stopping after a minute or so.

"You're home?" Hermione asks, her eyes still watery.

"I told you I'd be back soon," (Y/n) murmurs softly, smiling at her adopted parents sitting on the couch across from them, and Jean and Tom smile back.

Then she glances over to the door to see her father carrying her trunk, and setting it just inside the front door.

Tony walks over to the elder Grangers, and, with a quick word, the three adults walk outside.

Suddenly, (Y/n) is knocked out of Hermione's tight embrace and off the couch. (Y/n) lets out a yelp as her head slams into the coffee table, Marvel weaving excitedly on (Y/n)'s stomach, rolling around, shoving her face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, and nuzzling her face.

Hermione wipes her tears away, laughing at the black-and-white cat.

"There's my cheery sister," (Y/n) says with a grin, clambering to her feet, Marvel clutched in her arms.

Tony and the elder Grangers walk back into the house, Tony standing at the door and looking meaningfully at (Y/n).

Understanding the meaning of the look, (Y/n) follows, Marvel jumping up to perch on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

"Have a good school year," Tony tells his daughter softly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tony Stark says something that makes (Y/n) tear up a little. "(Y/n), you remind me so much of your mother."

(Y/n) steps forward, hugging her father tightly. "Thanks Dad. I love you," she murmurs, and Tony smiles softly, his brown eyes sparkling.

"I love you too, kiddo," Tony says softly, and after a moment, the billionaire steps back. "I'll write at least three times a week."

And, with that, Tony Stark walks to his car, waves, and gets inside, driving away.

A Month Later

The room is growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Harry falls into an uneasy sleep.

Harry dreams that he is on show in a zoo, with a car reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggle through the bars at him as he lies, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He sees Dobby's face in the crowd and shouts out, asking for help, but Dobby calls, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanishes. Then, the Dursleys appear, and Dudley rattles the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

"Stop it," Harry mutters as the rattling pounds in his sore head. "Leave me alone . . . cut it out . . . I'm trying to sleep . . ."

He opens his eyes. Moonlight is shining throuh the bars on the window. And someone is goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.

Ron Weasley is outside Harry's window, ready to whisk Harry off to the Burrow - The Weasleys' home.

Word Count: 3005 words

[iwritethat]

Dick Grayson: Fine Cuisine

Summary: Fluff

• Dick is unprepared for a family meal but your offer your fine expertise and have the whole family asking questions about you.

Warnings: Mature language

A/N: Hello lovlies! I’ve missed you all so much, I hope this helps a bit and there’s so much more I could add onto this so please enjoy and lemme know how you all are~

>>>>—————————>

It started with a family dinner.

As many curious situations do in retrospect, but with a family of vigilantes whose relationship ties have frayed, intermingled and been resewn makes for more interesting get-togethers compared to most.

One thing they could all agree on though? Dick Grayson cannot cook.

"I can't believe that, they just assume it's going to end in a takeout?" Came your amused voice as you placed a coffee on your kitchen island that Dick was currently seated - or rather slumped at.

"It's because the last two times I've hosted something like this, takeout has saved my ass." The ravenette embarrassingly clarifies, voice trailing off toward the end and did his best to avoid looking at you.

Dick Grayson was technically a neighbour, albeit living a few floors below your more lavish (and expensive) apartment suite. After moving into the complex on the same day, you quickly excavated the common ground to build a solid foundation for friendship - as such, meet-ups like these became a regular thing, switching apartments each time.

"Then, I'll help you out." You proudly confirmed, gesturing to your grand kitchen which was the sole reason you’d brought the place - one of the many things Dick envied about your luxurious living area compared to the standardised version of his own, though on an Officers salary he couldn’t afford something like this.

"Ah (Y/n) no, I can't let you do that!” Came his instant reply, hands waving defensively as he adamantaly brainstormed another excuse. “Plus you'll be working that night."

"True, but that doesn't mean I can't set you up beforehand. We'll start tomorrow, I'll teach you a recipe."

———

As previously planned, Dick turned up at your door rather nervously even though he’d been around you many times - not once had he demonstrated a serious negative flaw to his character in order to impress you, but cooking was one of them and you were about to witness chaos that’d likely dispel any romantic inclination he hoped you held for him.

“Ready?”

“No.”

With a playful laugh, you rolled your eyes and pulled the male into your kitchen noting how he was likely tired from his shift at Blüdhavens Police Department earlier that afternoon so a good meal should do wonders. Maybe it’d give him a better nights sleep too? The acrobat never seemed to obtain many of those for some unknown reason, apparently it’s ‘too noisy’ in the city.

“Oh and you can host in my apartment, it’s bigger and I’ll have all the equipment you need. You already have a spare key anyway.”

“You’re really amazing, I don’t deserve you - y’know that?” There were deeper feelings involved in that seemily offhanded thank you, ones relating to his role as Nightwing and his past mistakes which all remained a hated secret from you.

It started well, Dick following along with ease and you concluded that he picked things up fast with how observant he was which sped up the process. The main course he’d nailed with your guidance and so, you decided to move onto dessert.

“Now we add cocoa powder to th-“ You’d froze, mouth open out of surprise with the substances dusting your lips, cheek and part of your left collar bone - the offender in question mirroring your expression, albeit holding back his laughter due to his colossal misjudgement.

“I - I didn’t think it’d go everywhere when I ripped the packet open...”

“You don’t ever rip the packet, you tear it gently!” Came your dangerously mischievous correction, licking the sweet substance from your lips before flicking the currently non-chocolate brownie covered spoon at him with flecks landing on the side of his face.

“Oh, it’s on!”

This ensued an all out war, the two of you ducking and dodging oncoming attacks as you danced around the kitchen island with varying results of accuracy until Dick decided to slide over the marble surface and capture you in his arms.

His embrace faltered slightly as your back hit the island during your feeble attempt to get away, finding yourself trapped between him and the cool surface too enthralled in the carefree antics to notice the proximity. A beat of silence passed once the atmosphere had settled, Dick releasing a breathy chuckle with his grip around your waist loosening slightly as you looked up with a victorious smirk - he took the opportunity to lean forward slightly as if testing the waters and careful to note any kind of reaction you replied with.

However, there was a lack of trust as all is fair in love and war, hence your devious reasoning to close the gap some more and with the softness of his warm breath dancing on your lips you swiftly leaned past his whilst dragging your tongue across his cheek. Dick pulled back instantly, a mix of disgust and offence in his eyes as you spoke.

“Needs more sugar.”

“I’m sweet enough as it is thank you, you’d know that if you’d have just kissed me instead of betraying me like that!” Dick wittily snapped back, admiring the melodious laughter that escaped you at his response.

“I’m sure you do, speaking of - these brownies should last until the dinner so you won’t have to make them again on the day alright? I’ll get everything ready so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I guess you’d taste pretty sweet too.” Though referencing your kind nature, you couldn’t help but lightly punch him in the shoulder.

———

Regardless of Dicks wistful prayers, the deadline had finally arrived and his family would be sporadically arriving in a matter of hours - so help him.

"All the ingredients are on the counter - do not use anything else - and I've detailed the instructions on the whiteboard in case you forget anything." You pointed to each item as you spoke, donning a jacket before barely making it past the kitchen doorframe due to your neighbours dramatically desperate pleas.

"Can't you just stay? And do it with me?"

"I have to go to work." You laughed at his antics, the man looking like a lost puppy amidst your vast collection of kitchen utensils.

"Work will survive without you, c'mon you wouldn't lose out on much - I'll even pay for the trouble."

That, truly caused you to hesitate with a look of sheer bemusement, a mischievous glint dancing in your irises that mocked his claim almost as much as your sardonic tone.

"If you truly knew my job and paycheck then you'd take that back.” With that, you were quick to flip to a more cheerful voice as you waved goodbye to a pouting Grayson. “Anyway, you'll be fine and tell me how it went once I get back~"

"Wait (Y/n) h-"

The slam of the front door echoed your departure leaving a Dick feeling more lost than ever, the kitchen seemingly quadrupling in size now.

Bruce arrived first along with Damian, Cass, Duke and Alfred. Then there was Tim who’d apparently travelled from Titans tower and finally Jason who’d sauntered in fashionably late as predicted but only by 5 minutes. Each baffled by the sudden change of location which only intensified when the host brought out plates of home cooked dinner.

"..."

"This... this isn't take out..."

"No, it's actual food.” Dick confirmed almost offended and words laced with a hint of underlying sarcasm. “That I made myself."

"Okay, so uh - is it edible then?" Jason quipped back, smirking at his elder brother in a smug manner that only he could achieve.

"Would you just eat it? I went through a lot of stress and effort for this."

Dick encouraging everyone as he sat down, the action only bemusing the members of his family more as they complied to his wishes with varying degrees of hesitance from each of them. Damian trusted Dick the most, but he patiently waited for his father to finish his mouthful before even touching his own dish.

"Wow, this is incredible, the flavour and everything - Dick what happened to you?!" Duke enthusiastically mocked and continued to devour the meal with a sense of radiance which contrasted to Cassandras pure silence as she savoured every tasteful mouthful.

"Grayson, there is no way you are solely responsible for this cuisine." Damian suspiciously raised a brow at the older hero, tentatively laying his cutlery elegantly on the now clear plate.

"Thank you, and maybe I had some assistance from my neighbour."

“Thank you for dinner Dick, it was surprisingly delicious and please give our thanks to your mysterious friend too.” Bruce knowingly added, proud of his protégés accomplishments - though minor in comparison to Alfreds glowing exterior.

“I told you there was hope Master Bruce.”

"Bro, they left a whole list of instructions so you wouldn't mess up and hey, call if you need anything. Sounds like a plan -" Jason, who had waited until everyone was finished explored your kitchen in hopes of finding some evidence as to who their saviour was.

"Jason no! They're working!"

"It‘s an emergency, you’ve been replaced by a clone with adequate cooking skills!” Tim wittily added once leaning against the kitchen doorframe to observe the scene with Damian inspecting the whiteboard before questioning it’s purpose.

“Why leave this if they couldn't answer then?"

"That's the point, she will answer and I don't want to disturb her right now. They've done enough for me already." Dick painfully sighed, strategically slapping Jason’s phone into the air and catching it with his other hand in one swift motion much to the irritation of the latter.

"Hold up - she?" Duke cut in now, holding his hands out for emphasis and subtlety fishing for elaboration.

"Are you dating...?” Jason hummed, taking a moment to analyse Dicks reaction prior to cementing his assumption. “No, but you want to, right?"

“We are not -“

“You want to date someone?” Cass innocently inquired now walking in with a pile of plates, Bruce and Alfred following in afterwards with clean up of their own.

“I mean I -“

“I’ve seen enough of your crushes to know you have one, you’re already flustered by thinking about them romantically.” Bruce effortlessly deducted, Alfred nodding in agreement whilst commencing the washing up.

“You can’t just call me out like that Bats, after everything with been through too.” Dick feigned betrayal, a hand on his heart whilst Bruce shook his head.

“Oh yeah, how long did he wait for Starfire and Barbara though?” Tim jokingly nudged Jason who chuckled at the small dig, though charismatic and charming - when real feelings were involved, Dick Grayson wasn’t one to straightforwardly act on them.

“Real mature guys.”

“I think you should tell her.” Was the sincere voice of reason, Cassandras kind smile enough to silence the devilish remarks of his brothers who now shrugged in defeat.

“We could help...”

———

Miraculously, you'd attained reservations at the most eloquent restaurant in Gotham, located in the more luxurious district of the wealthy. As a result, it served only the finest gourmet cuisine and had waiting lists longer than any other, so much so that even Bruce Wayne had yet to successfully book a place at the establishment.

You had given him the news when he’d recounted the events of his family dinner (skipping over certain discussions) and how they were grateful for your generosity.

Now, you'd asked Dick for how many he'd like seated at the table so you could finalise the arrangements - he knew you worked there, meaning staff privileges were likely applied in this situation but he was still left speechless.

Gawking at the skyrocketing prices, Dick now understood how much missing one day of work would seriously cost you - he definitely couldn't have afforded your time that night after all.

"So, you say you're paying for this?"

With a painstaking hum of agreement, the eldest nodded with a hint of concern detected on his features, fortunately Bruce had come prepared with his own credit card (just in case). Although his family could be provoking and frivolous toward one another, they were also respectful in situations like these and wouldn't run the bill up too high like certain members would if Bruce had been footing the bill. Dick had a charismatic bond with all of them in that sense.

Meanwhile, you handled everything in your kitchen of organised chaos as the orders came pouring in, including that of Dicks table who you had yet to formerly greet.

"This is cereal..." The head waiter meant it more of a question than a statement, looking to you with upmost uncertainty due to the simplicity of the dish compared to those on your signature menu.

Did they even stock Lucky Charms with the ingredients? The answer was no, you’d intentionally bought them purely for this very day and scenario.

"I know, I know - please serve it to my neighbour on Table 12, he'll get it." You humourously assured the man who seemed to have more to say but didn’t wish to argue with higher authority.

"Ah, Chef..." Your sous chef called moments later, overlooking the scene with mild skeptism before realising the nature of your scheme.

"Hm?"

"You do realise he is currently seated with Mr Bruce Wayne, don't you?" Upon processing that unprecedented information you immediately bolted - hot on the trail of the waiter with a weak promise in your wake.

"What?! I thought he'd bring his friends along not his- oh god, I just sent them cereal- shit, I'll be right back!"

With strategy and precision, you carefully intercepted the tray only seconds before it’d be placed in front of the empty seat of Dick Grayson - the man in question probably taking a bathroom break.

"Aha, pardon me, this was an incorrect order on my part, please forgive the interruption." You bowed with an apology, disappearing in hopes the remainder of the party hadn’t the time to fully decipher the mistake.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, this was a table full of detectives who constantly observed even the most trivial of details.

"Was that... cereal?"

The night followed on as planned, yourself wrapped up in cooking and supervising throughout the night with the only interruption coming from the waiting staff informing you that Table 12 would like to meet the Chef. Such a gesture was commonplace for you, customers regarded as strangers being much less intimidating than your neighbours family - you couldn’t comprehend why, it’s not like you were dating him or anything but their auras just radiated strength.

"Good evening, I'm glad to hear you -" Arriving at the table, you weren’t given the chance to finish before Dick had stood to greet you with a warm smile gently brushing your upper arm once deciding against hugging you out of habit.

"Hey, (Y/n). You didn’t come over this morning, everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine Dick I just had to readjust a menu." You waved his worries off with a grateful nod, hands on your hips in accomplishment as you expected to resume natural conversation with him.

"Okay okay, compliments to you, the food was immaculate - but how do you know our brother?" A youthful male bearing a white streak through his hair cut in, genuine sincerity in his tone when offering his praise before incredulously gesturing to Dick.

"He's my neighbour."

"I - he's a what now?" Duke shook his head in disbelief, looking between you both rather unconvinced.

"Are you kidding me Grayson?!" Tim was next, the most exasperated out of the whole table as he pinched the bridge of his nose whilst Dick quizzically scanned each of his company for insight.

"What...?"

"You got cooking lessons from one of the top Chefs in the whole damn country, you're friends with her, and you didn't even know who she was?!" The slimly built youth exclaimed, apparently knowledgeable in regards to the culinary world and had read of your famous reputation.

“(Y/n) (L/n) owns this restaurant Dick. Also, thank for the other week, the recipe was lovely.” Bruce politely added, nodding to you with a smile.

“You didn’t say that, you only said you worked here.” Dick turned to you now, in a feeble attempt to justify his lack of acknowledgment to your renowned status.

“Well, I do. In my defence you never asked, I mean my apartment and kitchen are rather fancy - that didn’t come on minimum wage.” You replied a matter-of-factly with an air of confidence to your voice.

"Are we forgetting that this is also the chef who was going to serve Richard cereal?" At the remark from Duke, a heated flush adorned your skin due to the embarrassment of being caught - the whole table breaking into collective chuckles.

"You were? - Wow that's such a dick move!" Dick was openly laughing at your failed attempt at humour, lightly nudging your side as you pushed him away in playful defence.

"Shut up! I didn't realise you were with your family, or else I wouldn't have done it."

Jason immediately waved that claim off, cheekily smirking at you as he spoke. “Oh no, I'm so glad you did, honestly it's the main reason I like you right now."

“That and you spared us the horror of Graysons cooking.” Damian conviently inputted, conniving grin sent to his favourite brother.

“You’re welcome, ah I apologise but I should get back to work so please excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” Taking a calculating glance over the expanse of exquisite tables and order exchanges you thought it best to return to your duties with a gracious smile and started toward the kitchen.

“Can I drop by tonight, I won’t be able to afford any thank you gifts after this but I’ll bring you a coffee?” Dick cheerily inquired, causing you to spin on your heel with a shy laugh and confirmation of his proposal.

“Don’t worry, this is my treat. You guys don’t have to pay for anything so enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that you were once again swept up into the busy atmosphere beyond the kitchen doors.

The table remained quiet for a few moments, Dick sitting down and looking to them almost as if searching for their impressions of you only to be met with bemused, impressed and mischievous gazes.

Not for you, oh no - these were shamelessly directed at a now enamoured Dick Grayson.

“Please marry her.”

[starlit-serenade]

Reflection (Chapter 1)

🪞 Summary: Helping ONEUS learn and practice dancing wasn't easy. But it would be easier if Yeo Hwanwoong would stop flirting with you.

🪞 Chapter 1: 2,319 words

🪞 Pairing: Reader x Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong) / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader, DanceInstructor!Reader; Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong);

🪞 Rated: E, I think / Warnings: None, Hwanwoong being really flirty / Genre: Fluff

《 Series Masterlist // ONEUS Masterlist // Boy Group Masterlist 》

You arrive at RBW early in the morning, with your bag and your water bottle. You already changed into athletic clothes--leggings and a T-shirt--at home, so you don't have to change here, and are able to head straight to the practice room.

The practice room is empty, which isn't a surprise at all. You purposely always come in an hour or two earlier than everyone else so that you can stretch,  practice more and get into the dance mood by the time the others arrive.

You start stretching on the floor first, your legs extended to either side as you lean left, right and forward. Then you stretch your legs out in front of you and stretch forward. Then, butterfly stretch.

After you finish all of your stretching, you start practicing the dance you're about to help the members with. While you are not the main choreographer, one of your jobs is helping make it look good and helping the members pay more attention to detail.

You watch yourself in the mirror as you perform the choreography in slow motion, watching yourself closely. So closely that you don't hear the door open as you dance the center part of the chorus choreography.

"Wow, Y/N-ssi."

You look up in surprise. Yeo Hwanwoong is leaning against the wall at the back of the room, right behind you, his reflection smiling at you.

Hwanwoong.

What a man.

Him being a choreographer for ONEUS's choreographies means that he works closely with you. When you applied as an assistant choreographer and backup dancer three years ago, you expected to do just that. To help create and perfect choreographies. Which you wouldn't mind except for the fact that it seems Yeo Hwanwoong has a hobby of torturing you and your poor heart.

By that, you don't mean that he's mean. He, like his members, is very kind and sweet. He's very polite. But that man flirts with you non-stop. And you don't know if he's just doing that because it's his personality and he's playing, or if he actually likes you.

And honestly, you don't hate it. After years of working with Hwanwoong, you've definitely grown to like and admire him. Maybe you've felt a pull in your heart, a hint of feelings. He's really an impressive dancer with a heart of gold. What's not to like about him?

"Oh, Hwanwoong," you say, breathing in sharply. "Hey. You're earlier than usual."

"I couldn't wait to see you, Y/N-nim," he says, wrinkling his nose teasingly at you. He knows what he's saying. He knows what he's doing to you.

You take a deep breath to calm your poor, beating heart. "You know, Hwanwoong," you say. "I've told you, you don't have to be so formal with me. We've known each other for years. Just call me Y/N."

He smiles brightly and innocently. "Alright. I couldn't wait to see you, Y/N."

You smile. Despite the fact that he's making your heart flutter, and the fact that you know he knows you are affected like that, you can't let him know that he's doing that right now. Maybe it's a pride thing. Maybe it's like a game of tug and war with your feelings. You just like to pretend that he has no effect on you, though you both know it's not true.

"Oh? You couldn't? That's nice to hear," you say as cool as possible, turning back to the mirror. "Where are the others?"

"On their way. They stopped for drinks, I think."

"Oh. And you didn't go with them?"

He shakes his head, grinning. "Like I said, I couldn't wait to see you."

You pause, unsure of how to respond. You then nod, but Hwanwoong sees right through you. He smiles.

"You should stretch before we get started," you say. Hwanwoong nods and sits down on the floor quickly, starting with a split stretch. He grins up at you widely.

You turn back to the mirror and continue doing the dance slowly. You are very aware that Hwanwoong is watching you from behind as you dance the chorus choreography, but decide to ignore him.

After a minute of repeating the choreography over and over again, you hear the door open suddenly. You turn around and watch the last five members of ONEUS file into the room.

"Y/N-nim!" Dongju says, smiling brightly. He holds two drinks in his hand, and holds one out to you. "We got you a drink! Americano."

"Oh, thank you." You take the drink in your hand. "You know you guys don't have to be so formal. I told Hwanwoong already."

"Ah, but Y/N-nim," Dongju says, sitting with the other members to start stretching. "You're always so helpful to me. Like a teacher when it comes to dancing."

"Yes, but I learn just as much from you as you six learn from me," you say.

"Y/N," Hwanwoong says from his seated position. "When we go over our choreography, please monitor me closely. I'd like to have a flawless and powerful choreography."

You nod. "Of course."

After a while, the  members finish stretching. You have them run through the 'To Be Or Not To Be' choreography as you walk around them, observing closely for any way they could make it more impressive or be more in sync.

"Good," you say. "Seoho and Dongju, if you could have your feet more together. And if you could all bend your knees a bit more during Seoho's line after Keonhee's line, that would really emphasize the kick afterward."

You demonstrate as they watch, reminding them to pay attention to how your knees are bent. Afterward, they redo the verse, doing what you had instructed.

"Nice. Remember, it isn't the end of the world if you don't do perfectly. This choreography is very complex and busy, but these things will make it all feel more tied together," you say, smiling. "You guys are doing so amazingly."

You make sure to monitor Hwanwoong as closely as possible. Elbow at a right angle. You're supposed to have a wider stance, Hwanwoong. Sharper movements here. Rotate your torso just a bit more.

As you finish going over the four minute choreography once--which ends up taking almost half an hour--you ask them to repeat the entire dance again, keeping all of your corrections in mind as they do. You pace around them slowly, observing again for anything they miss. Again, you keep a close eye on Hwanwoong. 

At the end of the song, you're standing at the front of the room. From where Hwanwoong is standing, at the center of the room, behind Geonhak, he shoots you a wink and a smile, very different from the usual intense stare that he would give the camera at this part.

You freeze up, and feel your face getting all warm. You tear your eyes away from him, but you can feel him watching you, probably amused by how flustered he made you. You try to ignore him, nodding to the others.

"Great job! Go take a water break," you say. "We will resume in five minutes."

The members start drinking from their water bottles around the room, chatting amongst each other as they wait for the water break to end. Meanwhile, you watch yourself in the mirror as you do the choreography yourself. You can feel the members watching you intensely for anything to take away.

"Wow, Y/N-nim is so good at the choreo," Dongju says. You smile to yourself.

You've danced for a long, long time. Trained and practiced for years. Your goal was never to be an idol yourself--you just weren't cut out for the idol life--but you were interested in being someone behind the idol. A choreographer, a dance instructor or teacher. You've helped develop several choreographies from RBW, and helped train some trainees. This isn’t the first time you helped ONEUS sharpen and adjust their choreographies. Which is why you're so close to the members.

As you finish the choreography, break time comes to a close. You turn to the members, who are standing against the wall.

"Alright, are you guys ready to do the dance again? And with all of the feedback I gave you?"

"Yes, teacher-nim!" Hwanwoong says.

"Teacher-nim?!" You stare at him, flustered. He grins  proudly as you try to gather yourself. "I . . . I'm not . . . you guys' teacher," you stutter.

You shake your head and quickly turn back to the mirror and take a deep breath, ignoring Hwanwoong's gaze reflected back at you. He's smiling.

"Alright, let's go through the routine again."

The members get back to their starting positions as you prepare to start the music. You watch them dance, eyes following their movements.

"Yeo Hwanwoong, lift your feet a bit more," you call out. He nods. "Geonhak, Seoho, arms--ah, there you go. Good."

You have Hwanwoong bend down a little less at one point, so he's closer to everyone else's height. He chuckles and nods in agreement as you explain.

As they finish the dance, you applaud them. You have them go over it again and again, until it's all perfect and they've followed all of the instructions and tips you gave them. You congratulate them for working so hard. Lunch break rolls past, and the members invite you to join them as they visit a sandwich shop a couple blocks down. You nod and accompany them.

The seven of you walk together, laughing and talking about anything except dancing.

"Y/N, did you want to be an idol?" Keonhee asks from next ro to you. You shake your head.

"No. The idol life just isn't for me," you say. "I did want to be a dancer."

"Oh, you've been a backup dancer for us a couple times!" Dongju says.

"Yes. I love being a backup dancer. I've been a backup dancer for several artists," you explain, smiling. "RBW saw that my passion was in dancing, and offered to make me a dance instructor as well. And I love it. Working with trainees and choreographers, as well as experienced idols like you guys."

The seven of you arrive at the sandwich shop and order your food. You all sit around the table outside, talking more. Afterward, you all head back to the dance studio to practice the choreography a couple more times to make sure they have everything down.

As they run through the routine again, for maybe the tenth time today, you smile proudly. This time, they didn't need any correcting or any more adjustments. As they finish dancing, you applaud them.

"Well done!" you say. "I think that's good enough for today. If you would like to ask me for any help, I'll be practicing here."

The members gather their things and go to their next destinations, and you change the music to a different song--'Regulus' by ONEWE. You notice that, while five members leave to go to their dorm or elsewhere, Hwanwoong stays behind. He leans against the wall, watching you as you perform a separate choreo that you choreographed for 'Regulus' for fun. You've imagined performing it before. You are proud of it. But you aren't used to having someone watching you, much less Yeo Hwanwoong, whom you admire. You ignore him, almost shutting your eyes so you don't make eye contact in the mirror.

You stand up straight after the song has ended, and turn your head toward Hwanwoong's reflection. He's staring at you in awe, silently.

"Wow," he says quietly. "That was . . . wow."

"Wow?" You run over to pause the music on your phone before it plays the next song. Hwanwoong is still staring at you, and you laugh nervously. "Wow what?"

"Nothing. Your choreography was really pretty," he says. "Did you choreograph that yourself?" You nod. "Wow! Y/N, it's so beautiful. No wonder RBW hired you."

You bow a bit. "Thank you. Hwanwoong, were you staying to ask something?"

He pauses, then laughs a bit. "I think I was going to ask you to help me with the choreography, but now I'm just curious about your choreographies."

You shake your head. "Oh, I just do these for fun. They're nothing special."

"Just because you do them for fun doesn't mean they're not special," Hwanwoong says. "Would you be willing to teach me the one you just did?"

You blink. "I . . . I suppose I could."

He claps joyfully and walks over. "Yay!"

You start teaching Hwanwoong the choreo. The starting position is standing straight forward, hands down by your sides and head down. As the music picks up, you look up and start moving to the beat, your hands moving first and your feet following. Hwanwoong watches and copies you closely as you explain and demonstrate the dance at the same time. As you get through the entire song once, he nods.

You two run through your choreography for a second time, you watch Hwanwoong more. He moves elegantly, despite being new to the choreography. He really is a bit of a natural. Perhaps that's one of the things that draws you to him. His skill, his hard work, his passion.

After you get finished with the choreography again, the two of you are giggling together, leaning with your backs against the wall.

"Ah, Y/N, I'll need to practice this much more soon to be good at it."

"You really want to spend time on this, in addition to everything else?" you ask in disbelief. The idea that Hwanwoong would spend extra time learning and practicing a silly choreography that you made makes you feel a bit flustered.

"Of course! It's a beautiful choreography. I'd love to learn other choreographies you've made," he says.

"Well, don't let it be too distracting from your current choreography, though," you remind him. "You're still promoting your comeback, so that should be your number one priority."

He nods. "Yes, of course."

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Out Of The Woods (1/?)

This multi chap fic has been one that I've wanted to write for a while. I'm hoping to connect a few loose ends, since my series is getting closer to the end. Don't worry, I still got a couple of fics left in me. I'd love to thank @xerxezra whose conversations with me are always inspirational. I'd also like to thank @dorkydisappointment whose writing got my creative juice flowing.

References to the woman in the journal is from What You Found Amongst The Pages.

In this fic the reader tries to uncover the mystery of the artist behind Zeta-7s portrait.

__________________

Chapter 1: A Glimpse Of The Past

For some time, Rick had been looking forward to taking you here; to the middle of nowhere, in the northwest, where enormous pine trees lined the roads, and evergreens could be found as far as the eye could see. Initially, you weren't sure what you were expecting. A Bob Ross worthy getaway perhaps? Maybe, though unlike the paintings done on PBS, there were gas stations and convenience stores which broke the harmony of trees, roads, and sky; as few and far between they were.

The drive itself was fantastic, and the surrounding area was nice, though you had little to no cell phone reception. And since you couldn't pass the time exploring the weird parts of Reddit, you stared out the window while Zeta-7 sang along to silly travel tunes; the kind that kids would enjoy, but we're actually music recommendations from Tall Morty; another good Rick. You giggled when he sang ‘He had high apple pie, in the sky hopes’, but he didn't seem to mind, he was excited.

However, you were curious as to why Google maps couldn't find the address to the place you two were going to, but Rick seemed to know the directions. Honestly, as long as it wasn't like anything you'd saw in Gravity Falls, then it was going to be fine.

____________

“W-we're here.”

Nope. This couldn't be right. Jumping out of the passenger's seat, you were taken aback and a bit creeped out by the amount of moose statues and decorations which surrounded the place as though to protect it. Could they be part of the security system perhaps? And if they were, was it generally safe to even be here?

“We are? Really?”

“Y-you bet.”

Before your thoughts ran away with the idea, you turned towards him. “Rick, do you need any help with the luggage?”

Opening a portal, he stepped through carrying all the luggage, then reappeared in front of you a few seconds later. “No, it's - I already took care if it.”

It was just like him to be one step ahead of you. How unfair. “Rick, I could've helped you know. I'd hate for you to hurt yourself.”

“True,” he admitted matter of factly. “but if I didn't do it, then I couldn't d-do this.”

To which he then took your hand and pressed a soft kiss on it. “I-I needed to make sure you had a warm hand t-to hold. It's cooler out here th-then it is back home. ”

You gave him a playful shove in return, which made him laugh wholeheartedly before he went on explaining the brief history of this place all the while giving your hand a light squeeze.

The moose lodge, as it was named, looked more like a tacky cabin at the edge of the woods instead of the forgotten shack amidst a family of trees. It was located almost two hours away from the nearest town, and the easiest way to get there was by taking a single dirt road right off the state road twenty miles back; both of you agreed that using his portal gun would've been more convenient. The house itself used to belong to an old colleague of his, but Rick bought it a few decades ago and used it when he wanted to get away from the city, and think about life and so forth; as well as paint. Walking up the steps, he commented, “I-I know it's not much,” unlocking the front door with a moose-shaped key. “but I hope y-you'll like it.”

You really didn't want to tell him that the place looked like a tourist trap, but he stood there, waiting for your approval, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Oh, you didn't like the overwhelming amount of moose decorations, but you smiled nonetheless. “I'm sure I will. I mean, I guess I didn't know what I was expecting, but at least it will be peaceful. Right?”

“Th-that's right.”

Whatever opinions you held about the exterior design, the interior was a different story. When he opened the door, your senses were invaded by the scent of old paint and aged wood, with hints of pine and decades-old smoke. Following right after him, you gasped at the sight of the walls; each inch of wall space covered with paintings. There were scenes and landscapes, hidden figures in the brush, creatures you couldn't begin to describe, flowers, trees, and anything which had and might still be alive; his own private art gallery. With a few clicks on his phone, the curtains opened up, allowing the light to chase away the shadows.

And when the light settled on a particular painting, you walked past him, towards the furthest wall, nearest to the master bedroom, where a large painting hung above the fireplace; it was a portrait of him, done in the romanticism style. “Oh my God. Rick, that's…. did you paint that? I can't believe it, it's amazing.”

“N-n-no, I didn't paint th-that one, but I-I wish I did.”

You found it hard to believe because it captured his essence so perfectly. It was of his form illuminated by the mid-afternoon light, kneeling next to a flowerbed, holding an unopened rose, kissing it gently as though to bless it. His hands were covered in dirt, and his loose fitted, round-collared shirt allowed for a few chest hairs to peek out. As always, when he was around his plants, he was in this trance-like, reverent state; the quintessence of his being; peaceful and alluring in the fact that he didn't seem so broken. The closer you stood to this work of art, the more you felt as though you were staring at a historical figure rather than a throwback photo of your boyfriend.

The posture featured you'd seen him do on multiple occasions, when he took a moment to meditate, appreciating the beauty of life, and all once, you were envious of the one who got to see him this way, taking their sweet time, appreciating the inner beauty of this soft, tender, but complex man. It also reminded you that Zeta-7 had been young once, and handsome even though he thought otherwise. Touching your shoulder lightly, he sighed. “I-I know. Time hasn't been kind t-t-to me.”

“What are you talking about? You look great, but I can't believe this is the first time I'm seeing this. It's gorgeous.”

“Gee, that's - th-thank you.”

“When was this done? You look so young there.”

“Hohoho, not - not that young. It um - it was painted a-about thirty years ago, by a very good friend of-of mine.”

A good friend? Rick didn't have many good friends. “Were they an artist?” you wondered.

Scratching the back of his neck, he avoided your gaze. “While she'd never claim t-t-to be, I thought she was. I um - why don't y-you make yourself comfortable while I make us s-something t-to eat.”

She? You had many other questions you wanted to ask, but knowing him and how he changed the subject, it seemed that that was the end of that; for now. “Okay,” you acquiesced, determined to bring it up at the first opportunity. “but can I pick any room I want?”

“Out of the two bedrooms? Sure g-go ahead.”

__________________

After a simple dinner, you two went for a walk. There was a slight chill in the air, but thankfully you had a sweater and a warm hand to hold as you two followed the trail. You were glad to find that you were in better shape than you had anticipated, but that's what adventuring with a mad scientist will do. Here and there he found mushrooms which he took note of to return for later, and at some point, you climbed a tree, much to his disbelief, and teased him to come after you; he did, but you received a scolding which he then after profusely apologized for.

Later, after returning, you delighted in a warm bath and thought it would be a good time to unpack. Rick had disappeared somewhere around this time, which made you wonder if he had an underground lab here. Casually, you walked past the living room, with no intention of stopping but that larger than life painting caught your eye again. Unlike the other paintings along the walls, there was no artist signature. Hmm, what a tease the artist must've been.

In comparison, Rick hadn't changed very much over the years, except for the wrinkles of course and well his hair used to be darker. Still, you couldn't help but stare at that painting, envious of this old friend of his he had mentioned. Who was she? Was she beautiful? Did she love him too?

You thought more about it as you unpacked your stuff in the small bedroom next to the art room. It wasn't so far fetched to believe that he could've had his fair share of lovers, but then you had yet to see any feminine influences about his house except for a few treasured belongings of his mother. There was the woman from his journal, but he never brought it up and you had never confessed to having invaded his privacy, so you still weren't at liberty to do so. How was it that after all this time, there was still this bloom of mystery about him? Well, because he was humble and reserved, and only shared information which wouldn't hurt him.

Oh well. You'd have to get over it someday, but was it so wrong to be jealous of someone you never met?

TBC

[mobagehell]

Ereshikagal Chocolate Scenario (FGO Valentine's 2018)

It’s that time of year again, y’all! And here I am, crawling out of the bowels of my chaldea delivering the good news. I’ve been working on my translating all year, and I think I’ve improved since last time! 

I plan to do boy arthur, shinjuku assassin, shinjuku avenger, summer nero, and paul bunyan. If you have shinjuku archer, summer nitocris, melt lilith or abby hit me tf up,  PLEASE!

comments, questions, criticisms, etc are always welcome~

*In some cases I’ve numbered the choices and the corresponding responses b/c you won’t see the other depending on what you choose but it all converges in the end.

Ereshkigal: ......Finally they've come out of the cafeteria. I knew if I aimed for lunch time I would be able to catch them. Well, in all honesty after dinner would have been better, but, if I waited until then there would be more people around.

......hmph. It looks like this wasn't that big of a deal at all. I'm surprised myself at how calm I am. I guess taking two whole days to psych myself was the right move. I can also say the quality of my chocolate is top class; I did put in a month's worth of practice after all. There shouldn't be any problems with its taste, shape, or mana!

Yeah! I had fun making one prototype a day; so much fun I would make them everyday if I could! This was the only one that actually turned out well, but still! By having even just one success, then the rest aren't really failures, right!

―――― ah right, now is not the time for me to be standing around the bend here congratulating myself. I hear guda's footsteps, no doubt about it. ......handle any situation coolly, be graceful....

Alright! Here we go, Ereshkigal! Let's give them a taste of the splendor and luxury of a goddess!

Fou: Fo. Fofo, fou. kyuuu. (Special Translation: Hold on. I sense plotting from just around the bend.)

   > Fou-kun is staring past the bend.....?    > (Is someone there?)

Fou! Foufou, foooo! (Special Translation: I can feel a powerful enemy.....! Chhhaargee!)

???: Well, if it isn't the beast of calamity. Hmmmm, playing bodyguard are we. Well, whatever, you're powerless now anyway. Why don't you go over there.

Now, then, let's pull it together....and,

Ereshkigal: G-g- Good afternoon Guda! Looks like I'm right on schedule running into you here like this! I-I see you just came out of the cafeteria but, are you hungry by any chance? If you are I have something nutrional especially made, but, d-do you feel like trying it?

Fou: ―――― kyu. (Special Translation: Oh,it's just some small fry. We can go.)

      > Good Afternoon, Ereshikgal (1)       > Sorry, I just had lunch so...... (2)

Ereshikgal:(1) Y-Yes. Your politeness is too kind. Greetings are important. I appreciate that side of you.

Fou: (2) Fou. Foufou.

Ereshikigal: (2) Of, of course, you did just come from the cafeteria! I knew that, it's only practical for the living!

(ahhwawawa ――― What happened to my mental focus! Wasn't I so calm even surprised myself !?)

Fou: Fou. kyukyu―uuu,fou. (Special Translation: But they haven't had dessert yet)

Ereshikagal: That's great! Thank goodness, it looks like my timing is perfect then! Take this, if that's the case. It's such pity to not have dessert after a meal, plus I doubt you will get anything from the other goddesses, and it's a special modern event, so, I'm giving you this. I don't particularly like sweet things like this though. *she gives you the chocolate*

Fou: fo.....fou..... (Special Translation: wow.....you can totally tell she tried too hard....)

Ereshkigal: Wh- what do you think? I- I only heard about this event yesterday, so I went with a design I've already made before, though I finished it off with decoration without being too tasteless.

      > This is what you treasure most right, Ereshkigal (1)       > This is your specialty isn't it, Ereshkigal (2)

(1) Yes, exactly. That lancet cage is what's most important to me. ....fufu. For mortals, I use it to entrap their souls, and against my enemies I can use it as a lance to pierce their bodies. Truly, you are an odd mortal, to think something like that to be my treasure.

(2) Th-that's right. I have full mastery of making cages. As you can see, I am the gloomy goddess of the underworld. Since you seem to be forgetful of that fact, I made a point of giving you a warning by using this form. So every time you look at this chocolate, you will remember this: do not take me lightly.

....ahem.

A-anyway, you don't have to eat it immediately. You can eat it whenever you feel like it. And, if turns out to not be enough, I don't mind if come ask for more. I made extra just in case that were to happen.

And I will take responsibility if it comes to the point where you cry "This flavor is unlike anything I'v tasted until now, I only want to eat the utter perfection that is the chocolate from the underworld...." I'll make sure to properly think of some aftercare for you.

Fou: Fou, fou－uuu! Impossifou－uuu! Dream, fou－uuu!

Ereshkigal: St-stop criticizing every last detail, you little beast! Can't I at least dream! ? I fully understand it myself, okay! I know I overdid it, or really that it just isn't the least bit cute. But I couldn't think of anything else, I'm so gloomy even I start hating it!

     > No

—————. Wh- what? Are you going to return it right here, wouldn't that be too cruel?

     > Thanks, Ereshkigal

O... ―――oh. If you like it, then that's enough. I only wanted you my luxury and gratitude as a goddess. It's not like I was really getting excited about your reciprocation.

Fou: Foooo？Fofofofofofofoooo?       

       > I want to come get seconds right away.

Ereshikigal: w h――― um, that's ―― (No wait! I'm happy but that's impossible! If they see that mass of prototypes, my diginity as a goddess will....! More importantly, my chest is pounding just from them giving thanks! Any more happiness tha this and I think I'll be over my daily maximum capacityyyy!)

―― D- don't say something so stupid. The amount of energy you can get from that chocolate is enough for a mortal's lifetime. You're living stranded on top of a snowy mountain, s- so there's no way you could eat it all in one day. I appreciate the sentiment but, another serving will be for a later time. Specifically, I need you to give me about two weeks. If I have that much time I...should be able to work it out somehow,I'll leave that to the future me.

Fou: fouuu....

     > Then I'll see you at that time      > Whattt. I don't care if it's just a prototype thoughhhh?

Ereshikigal: You saw through all of ittttt! Could you take a hint, just a little!? A-anyway, I've repayed my debt with this ―― I mean, I've fufilled my duty per our contract. S-see you laten then, Guda. For lunch I reccomend Set D from the cafeteria!

Fou: Fou. Foufou.

> By the way..... > Her face was red the entire time, was it Sumer fever.....

Fo―― fooooooooou!? (Special Translation: There was unbelievable plotting here tooooooo!?)

Craft Essence: Sweet Home in the Underworld

Valetine chocolate from Ereshkigal.

A miniture version of Ereshigal's 「Lancet Cage」. Having tried with the shape she has the most experience making, it conveys the feeling of her putting everything into it, and her confidence that she couldn't fail.

The shape is extremely well done but, the taste still needs work.

[wri0thesley]

Congrats on the 200 followers! I've honestly wanted to request some sfw/nsfw for Josuke with someone who's been heavily heartbroken before and has a lot of insecurities about being in a relationship again. That's all, good luck on the blog and keep making it grow, your writing is really nice!

this is my eight hundred and twelfth fic entitled “josuke is the greatest boyfriend of all”

Josuke is different from any other person you’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean its any easier for you to trust him.

He looks like he should be trustworthy, and he sounds like it too - when he talks to you, his voice is soft and his eyes are dark with affection and the smile that flitters across his face and shy and genuine. Still, you’re aware better than most people that just because something seems like it’s going well - just because it seems like you can trust somebody to guard your heart - doesn’t mean it is. Doesn’t mean they will.

He’s your - you hesitate to use the word boyfriend, the last time you’d had somebody who you called that hadn’t ended well for anyone involved. Still, you suppose that’s the best way to describe what he is to you. He’s your boyfriend, and you really, really like him, and you don’t want to fuck this up. You’re tired of feeling like you fuck up everything you touch.

The first time Josuke had tried to hold your hand, you’d recoiled away from him and he’d looked hurt, and you’d felt awful seeing that expression on his face. It made you feel like you’d just kicked a puppy - he recovered quickly and shot you a smile and put his hands up in the air, laughing;

“Sorry I startled you, babe!”

It hadn’t done much to ease the worry in your heart. Even him calling you ‘babe’ set alarm bells going off in your head, even though you knew it was purely affectionate. Josuke would be horrified if he knew that you were scared of him.

* * *

“We need to talk,” you look up across the table at Josuke, whose plump bottom lip is caught between his teeth. It’s probably the most full-on worried you’ve ever seen him look. Usually, in public, his expression is self-assured and confident - if he’s making a romantic overture towards you, there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks and a nervous smile. This particular expression is altogether more serious than he usually is.

Immediately, hundreds of scenarios swim unbidden to the forefront of your mind.

This feels like a frighteningly familiar situation; usually, there are tells that things are about to fall apart (the last one had snapped at you, had started to shut you out, met with people when you weren’t around and hidden things from you–). Here, there’s been nothing. Josuke has been his usual ebullient, charming self, and you’ve found yourself forgetting how worried you are about how much you like him, because it’s impossible to dwell on something like that when Josuke is cracking jokes and grinning at you and peeking through lush eyelashes to make sure you’re smiling at them too.

Maybe he’s found someone else. Maybe he’s tired of dealing you. Maybe you cringing away when he goes to touch you has finally gotten to him. Maybe, maybe, maybe –

“What’s wrong?” You ask, battling to keep your voice calm. He’s going to leave you like everyone else does.

“I … I don’t know how to start,” he says, and there’s an edge of frustration in his voice. You stare down at the cloth of the table, not wanting to see what emotions are playing out in his eyes. “I don’t wanna upset you, babe–”

“If you want to leave, tell me now.”

It falls out of your mouth, leaving the dry taste of sadness pressing down on your tongue like sandpaper. You hope - you pray - that he’s not going to want to leave, but everyone else does so you suppose it’s not really a surprise.

“What?”

He sounds genuinely surprised, and when you manage to tear your gaze from the table he looks surprised too.

“I’m sorry that I’m not good at this,” you say, voice thin. You hope he can’t hear the tears that are already threatening to push through your clogged-up throat. Being broken up with is always hard, but letting the one breaking your heart see just what they’re doing to you is almost worse. “I know that I’m … difficult.”

“Th-that’s not it at all.”

His face is bemused.

“R-really?” You don’t want to cling onto hope that might not be there, but your heart betrays you and grabs onto it whole-heartedly. The chance that this is all going to be fine - the thought drums in your ears and is the only thing that stops the tears from falling.

He gives you a tired smile.

“Babe, I just wanted to talk to you. You’ve been burned before, right?”

You give him a stiff nod. “I… yeah. Yeah, I have.”

“I can tell! I’m not as dumb as I look, y’know? I’m not the kinda guy who rushes into things. I’m a love kinda guy, ‘n I’m lookin’ for someone who I want to really be with. I really like you,” this last is delivered with a blush that’s far more like the expression you’re used to seeing on his face. It’s the same expression he’d had the first time he’d asked you on a date, the first time he’d darted a kiss onto your forehead. It’s adorable. Enough to melt even your time-hardened heart. “I just want you to know that I’m not gonna push you into anythin’ you don’t feel like doing.”

“I’m sorry I seem so scared of you,” you tell him with a dry throat, your voice quiet as you put into words something you’ve always been afraid will make Josuke push you away. “I haven’t … I haven’t had the best luck with people I love.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins at you.

“Y’love me?” This time it’s your turn to blush, and you look down fiercely into your lap.

“I think so,” you admit, and it frightens you to hear it out loud. You do love Josuke - the boy’s perfect. Not a single flaw in him. All that this conversation has done is remind you of that.

“Babe,” he says, “I love you too. We’ll go as slow as you need.”

You should never have doubted Josuke Higashikata. He really is different from anyone else you’ve ever met.