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twistedtummies2 · 3 years

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The Mad Doctor of Night Raven (Commission)

Another commission; this is from the same person who created Tock Crockwork and Caelyum in past stories. This time, we introduce another OC of theirs: Xavier Madoc, based on The Mad Doctor from Epic Mickey. This is also my first time properly writing for Idia and Ortho! :D

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“You sure this is everything you need, me hearties?”

“Nya! It better be! Some of this is heavy!” You smirked as you adjusted the box of electronic equipment in your arms. You checked on your companions, who were carrying similar boxes. To your right strolled Grim, the fire-eared, trident-tailed, cat-like imp. He was carrying a very small box - fitting for his size - while yours was more medium sized. A box matching the size of yours was in the arms of your more human comrade: a tall, slender young man with long, fuschia-colored dreadlocks, dressed all in brown. “Thanks for the help, Cael,” you said to him gratefully. Caelyum De Macabre shrugged cheerily. “Don’t mention it!” he chuckled. “For one thing, helping you get this stuff was part of my job at the Mystery Shop. Sam prides himself on having everything; if I couldn’t find something like all this, he might dock my pay.” “Would he?” you blinked. “Probably not, but he MIGHT,” huffed Cael. “And as for carrying some of this…” His smile became more bashful. “...I owe you both. If it weren’t for you all...I might not have been able to reconcile with Mia.” “How is she, by the way?” you asked, tilting your head, then smirked teasingly. “Have you proposed yet?” “Well...um...yes and no?” chuckled Cael, pausing to flick a stray dreadlock out of his face before continuing. “We had a talk about that, actually, and...we decided it would be best to wait to get married till after I finished school.” “Well, as soon as you have your wedding, make sure you guys send me and Grim an invite!” Cael nodded to say he would, then both of you paused as you heard a sort of growly groan come from Grim. “Having trouble, Little Monster?” Cael asked, tilting his own head this time. “I wish people would stop calling me that,” grumbled the imp, and continued to march onward, tail flicking angrily behind him as the blue flames in his ears crackled faintly. “I’ve got it. The Great Grim won’t be defeated by a box!” He paused, blinked, then mumbled: “That’s something I didn’t think I’d say today…” Both yourself and Caelyum snickered.

“Why’d the otaku guy ask for all this, anyway?” Cael asked as the three of you continued on. “It’s for the science expo!” Grim said. “Science expo?” frowned Caelyum. “Idia’s final exam,” you nodded, and explained: “Crowley is holding a science expo here in a couple of weeks, and Idia has to create something for it for one of his classes.” “Well...cool, but why are YOU guys getting it?” “Because the thought of leaving his room multiple times to take multiple trips nearly made Idia have a heart attack,” you answered, dryly. Cael blinked...then sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “From what little I’ve seen of Shroud, that sounds about right.” “I hope he appreciates the help,” huffed Grim, and bounced the box of equipment in his little arms as he continued to march forward, moving ahead of you both. “It’s not easy hauling all this from the Mystery Shop all the way Igni-YIPE!” Grim let out a shrill yelp, and fell back onto his bunce; he’d bumped into something, which hit the floor with a crash. The box full of equipment fell to the ground. Yourself and Cael quickly but carefully put down your own boxes and hurried to gather the fallen items and inspect them swiftly, while Grim growled and rubbed his sore haunches. “Nothing’s damaged,” Cael sighed with relief. “Are you alright, Grim?” you asked. “No,” pouted Grim. “My dignity is wounded, and it’s hard keeping it intact as it is.” You smirked affectionately. “Oh my gosh!” exclaimed a new voice. “Are you okay?!” The three of you looked up to see a new figure rushing towards you all. The figure was a young man, dressed in the black-and-blue, informal, leather-jacket-clad dorm costume of Ignihyde. His skin was pale, and he had moppish hair, which had been dyed mint green with blue tips. His eyes were heterochromatic, and similarly colored: one was emerald, the other cobalt. He was somewhat gangly in build, yet handsome in features. “Nya...I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Grim muttered out, stumbling back onto his hindpaws and dusting off his fur. “I wasn’t talking to you!” the young man snapped, catching Grim off-guard...then knelt down to what Grim had bumped into. “Abe! Abe, are you okay?” The figured Grim had bumped into, you soon realized, was a robot. It was dressed like a porter, and - in contrast to the synthetic skin and almost fully human appearance of Ortho Shroud - had a decidedly mechanical, industrial look: all metal plates and gear-twisting joints. Its face was mask-like, with two yellow lamps for eyes. The robot shook its head with a whirring noise, as if to clear it, then the mute bot - it had no mouth - nodded to the young Ignihyde student. The mint-eyed boy sighed with relief, and smiled at the bot as if it were an old friend, patting its shoulder. Then, he glared at Grim almost childishly. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!” the lad snapped. “Me?!” snapped Grim, stomping one foot angrily, ear-fire flaring up. “Your stupid robot was the one who bumped into me!” The green-and-blue-haired youth gasped, looking deeply offended, and hugged Abe close. “Don’t listen to the mean little raccoon, Abe,” he crooned to the bot, stroking the back of its head like it was his child. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” “I AM NOT A RACCOON!” screamed Grim. “I don’t even LOOK like one; why does everyone keep calling me that?!” The student from Ignihyde was too busy fawning over his robot like it was a spoiled child to answer. The robot squirmed, its yellow eyes flickering; you got the feeling that if a machine had the power to blush, Abe would have been doing so from all the attention. Grim pouted and grumbled while yourself and Caelyum stepped closer to address the newcomer, who helped the robot to its feet. The machine called Abe clattered and clanked a bit as the young man pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and began to check over the mechanical wonder’s form. “Buddy, I keep telling you, you have to make sure to look both ways,” whispered the young scientist. “Maybe some of your circuits need rewiring; it’s like your memory bank has a hole or two in it somewhere. Tch. My fault for using-” “Excuse me,” you spoke up. “Who are you?” The Ignihyde student looked to you...then smiled. “Oh, hey there!” he said, waving with the hand that held the screwdriver. “Name’s Xavier. Xavier Madoc, if you, ah, wanna get all formal and stuff, heh. I’m a, uh, first year here in the dorm. I was just taking my buddy Abe here for a tour around the campus!” He patted his robot’s back; Abe stumbled forward, and rubbed his arm, looking a little nervous as he nodded to you in greeting. Sensing the AI’s anxiety, you gave a disarming smile of your own and bowed your head in return. This seemed to make Abe perk up a bit. “Nice to meet you both,” you said. “Speak for yourself,” mumbled Grim. “Hey, not Abe’s fault you’re an imperfect specimen of biology,” frowned Xavier. Before either yourself or Grim could point out Abe was clearly not a perfect machine, either, Xavier’s eyes lit up with recognition as he noticed the other member of the party. “Oh, it’s you again! Kale, yeah?” “Cael,” De Macabre corrected, with a mild smile. “Is this your presentation for the science expo?” “Pffft! Oh-ho, yeah, like...c’mon. Making artificial life? That’s, like, SO twenty years ago,” Xavier snorted. “Nope! I’ve got somethin’ a whole lot bigger in mind! It’s gonna REALLY put me on the map!” “After how much all those parts cost you, I should hope so,” mumbled Caelyum. “Hold on, back up,” you said, giving a “time out” gesture. “The two of you know each other?” “Only peripherally,” admitted the shopkeeper’s aid. “Just like you guys, I helped Xavier pick out some items for his project.”

“Cool,” you commented. “They work perfectly, by the way!” Xavier butted in, and then giddlily clapped his hands. “Ohhhh, this is gonna Rock. The. World. Like, if there was a world, and my new invention could hold it, it would just…” He made explosive noises as he mimed shaking something in his hands, then puffed them out with a long, whining “Aaaaaah!” noise. “...That would be it,” he declared, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing is gonna top this one, nothing!” “Well, you seem pretty confident,” you chuckled. “Trust me, if there’s one thing I know...well, actually, I know, like, a lot of things, I guess?” Xavier frowned, turning his eyes heavenward as he counted on his fingers. “I mean, there’s, like mechanical engineering, alchemy, anatomy, welding, potion making, computer science...basically, yeah, if there’s one thing I can do, it’s how to make something awesome. With SCIENCE!” The last word was spoken with great melodrama, complete with Xavier lifting one hand theatrically, throwing his head back with pride and puffing out his chest arrogantly. Abe seemed to roll his eyes at his creator’s hammy attitude. “I wouldn’t get too cocky,” Cael said warningly, as he stepped back to lift his box up off the floor. “Yeah! Especially with all this to contend with,” Grim grinned a little smugly, picking his own box back up as well. Xavier frowned as he saw you lift the third and final box, now looking both curious and perhaps borderline suspicious. “Yeah, about that...what’s with all the toys?” he said, pointing to the box with a slight frown, as if the items within were beneath him. “Is there, like, a kid entering the expo, or are you cleaning out trash…?” You blinked, and the three in your party shared looks. The strange part about that comment was it didn’t sound like it was meant to be an insult. Xavier seriously seemed to see the tools in the boxes as inferior. “These are for Idia. Your dorm head,” you said, slowly. Xavier’s eyes widened, and so did his smile. “Oh! Oh, COOL! So, wait, holdupholdupholdup...you’re saying Idia Shroud - THE Idia Shroud - is gonna come outta his hideout and tussle with the muscle at the contest?” “That’s...one way of putting it, yep,” you answered unsteadily. “That’s TERRIFIC!” Xavier exclaimed, clapping his hands and bouncing on his heels with giddy delight. Abe tilted his head with curiosity, and Xavier, noticing the robot’s reaction, decided to explain. “When I beat Idia, that’ll be, like, the best thing ever!” Madoc told Abe. “I can finally show just how perfect and brilliant my machines are! Abe, it’s gonna be DA BOMB! HA HA HA!” Xavier cackled with almost unhinged delight, pumping his fists. Abe turned his lamplike eyes towards your group. You see what I have to put up with? he seemed to be saying. “Be wary,” Caelyum warned. “You shouldn’t underestimate Shroud: he’s dorm head for a reason. He literally made his own brother, you know; have you made anything that impressive before?” Xavier looked to Cael...and his smile fell. A sudden coldness came over his expression, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my machines aren’t impressive?” he whispered, his voice lowering an octave. “No, I don’t think he’s saying that at all!” you interrupted, sensing the tension and wanting to cut it short. “Just...um...Idia’s not half bad either, you know.” Xavier smirked, but his eyes were still glittering like emerald daggers. “Hmph. He may be dorm head, but he’s got nothing on The Madoc,” Xavier boasted, jabbing a thumb at himself...then, his eyes brightened, and his whole being became exuberant once more. “Hey! Hey, you should totally come see the expo! All of you! That’d be great!” “Then we could see you win, huh?” you smirked right back, already sensing his thoughts. “Well...or see the others lose,” he said with a sinister laugh. “Your choice of how you wanna word it.” “Nya...that seems a jerky way to put it,” grumbled Grim, but no one paid attention to him. “Well, Crowley is probably gonna ask us to do something there anyways, with his track record,” you muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw you there.” “Perfect,” smiled Xavier, then cocked his head innocently. “Uh...right, I, ah...yeah, just realized I never got who YOU were?” You gave your name quickly. “I’m Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm,” you explained, and pointed to Grim. “This is Grim.” “Aww...nice that your dorm allows pets.” Grim looked like he was pondering the many ways he coil make life excruciatingly painful for Xavier Madoc. “Why do you say that?” Cael spoke up. “Does yours not?” “Honestly, I dunno,” shrugged Xavier. “I’ve never had a pet. Never wanted one, really.” He tapped Abe on the chest; the robot - who had been staring off at something on a wall - jumped at the clanking on his abdomen. “I just deal with machines,” he said. “Pets are so...fussy. And unpredictable. You have to feed them and clean up their mess...my machines are clean and easy to handle. A machine can’t leave you or get sick; if there’s a malfunction, just a touch of oil or a twist of a wrench, and it’s all fixed, usually! And, hey, if something breaks, I can just rebuild it!” Abe looked hurt. “Oh, not you, buddy,” Xavier chuckled, patting his metal shoulder. “You’re irreplaceable.” Abe seemed to smile, but since he had no visible lips, you couldn’t tell. “I think it’s a good thing to have pets,” Caelyum argued, then gave a joking smile. “Maybe you should buy a lab rat or something?” Xavier shuddered. “Right, and be around animals AND people? Thanks, I think I’ll pass.” “And you were teasing Idia about leaving HIS hideout?” Grim taunted. Xavier glared at him. “I’m not scared of people,” he protested. “I just...don’t like crowds. I don’t like most people, either.” “You seem to be chatting easily with us,” you observed. “Well...yeah, but…no offense, I’m not gonna be inviting you to my lab anytime soon,” Xavier smiled weakly. “I like my privacy, that’s all.” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Speaking of,” Xavier went on, without waiting to see if you WOULD respond, “I gotta get back to work: I’ve gotta work out some clibrations for my new invention, then maybe see about modifying Abe’s storage banks, not to mention figuring out a few blueprints for future projects…” “Jeeze, don’t you do anything fun?!” Grim exclaimed. “Science IS fun,” huffed Xavier, sticking his nose up snootily. “And I don’t see a reason to stand here and be insulted by a furball.” While Grim sputtered, offended, Xavier looked to Abe. “Come, my friend!” he called out, theatrically. “Back to the laboratory!” Abe saluted, and he and his creator turned on their heels before marching away. The metallic footsteps of the robot echoed down the hall for several seconds after they vanished from sight. “I don’t like him,” grumbled Grim. “We gathered that,” Caelyum smirked. “He seems...eccentric,” you murmured, then shook your head. “Then again, I guess it’d be hard to find anybody at this school who ISN’T at least a little bit odd.” “He seemed like a good sort to me,” Cael nodded, then frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bit too sure of himself for his own good...not to mention a little too antisocial…” “Hey, I’ve dealt with Idia; trust me, that was nothing on the antisocial level,” you scoffed, as the three of you went down a side passage and headed off to find Idia’s room. “That’s not quite what I mean,” mumbled Caelyum, and then went on, aloud. “You know the donation jar at the Mystery Shop?” “You mean for the Medical Center?” “Yeah,” Cael said. “He didn’t donate anything. That’s not surprising, I guess, and it wouldn’t have really bothered me at all - donations from customers are hit and miss, always - but when I asked him if he’d like to make a donation, his response was…unsettling.” “Nya?” Grim meowed, one ear flicking with curiosity. “And what did he say?” “He said, ‘Sorry, but there are too many people out there to worry about the sick ones.’” You blinked...then scowled. “Okay...that’s...not very nice...and a little confusing,” you murmured. “Yeah,” Caelyum said. “The weirdest part was he then started rambling about the machines in the Medical Center. He seemed more interested in how the machines worked than what they actually did to help people.” You glanced back over your shoulder. Now, you were starting to feel worried. A person that strange, that obsessed, and that sure of his own superiority… ...Suddenly, Xavier’s eccentricities were starting to take a more sinister undercurrent. “Let’s just forget about him,” snorted Grim. “Come on, the scaredy-cat’s waiting!” “Right,” you muttered, then shook your head to clear it, and picked up the pace, this time taking the lead yourself. “Come on, you two...if Idia’s going to have any shot at that science expo - Madoc or no Madoc - he’ll need these parts.’

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Several weeks later, the science expo at Night Raven College commenced. Various students from across the campus were readying their inventions and projects. You had been right, of course: the Headmaster had, indeed, demanded that you attend the expo. As custodians, your job was to help those preparing their experiments, and to clean up any messes that might come up. By some miracle, not a drop of an acid, nor a bit of any base, had yet to stain the floor, and nothing solid had broken. Of course, that could change at any time, so yourself and Grim wandered around the expo, peeking at different experiments on display. A lot of what was being shown you didn’t fully understand - science had never been your strongest point - and, truth be told, the majority of the students involved were not ones you knew personally. There were, however, two familiar faces you were hoping to see. “Nya...where are the Shrouds?” meowed Grim, flicking his tail from side to side and blinking his big blue-green eyes up at you. “Shouldn’t Idia and Ortho have set up their panel already.” “Yeah, they should have,” you nodded. “Maybe they just didn’t get things ready in time?” “Not the way I heard it.” The voice caught your attention, and both yourself and Grim smiled as you saw who it belonged to. “Oh, Cael! So you came here after all, huh?” you grinned. “Yup. I actually invited Mia, but she couldn’t make it; some kind of royal business,” the shopkeeper’s assistant shrugged. “I wanted to see how the items Sam and I sold were being used, so I asked him if I could get out of my job at the Mystery Shop a few hours early to check things out.” “I see. I’m sorry to hear Mia couldn’t make it,” you said, sympathetically. Caelyum smiled gently. “For years I lived without her,” he said, faintly. “Even if we’re not together, my heart will always be with her...and hers with mine…” “Ugh...gag me,” sneered Grim. “You don’t have to make it sound so dramatic, you know; you’re a bigger ham than the guys at Pomefiore!” Cael blushed and you giggled. “Anyway...Ortho told me he and Idia had finished their work,” Caelyum informed you and the imp. “They actually have it stored here at the hall, since they felt that would make it easier for transport and setup.” “That’s strange, then. Even Idia usually isn’t late for these things,” you murmured, looking a little concerned. “He’s not?” Cael asked, curiously. “I would have thought, with his reputation, he would try his hardest to avoid them.” “Well, Idia usually has Ortho attend the Dorm Leader Meetings - and other events - and then uses his computer to do a voice stream from his room,” you explained. “That way he can make his presentations without having to face the crowds directly. There should be no reason for at least one of them to not be-” “Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through! Thank you!” “Idon’twannagoIdon’twannagoIdon’twannagohelphelphelp…!” Grim turned around fast at the sound of the familiar voices, and tugged on your leg, pointing in the direction they were coming from. Both you and Cael quickly looked in the direction he had indicated, and saw the crowd of students and helpful staff members parting… ...Revealing the form of Ortho Shroud, who all but skipped merrily along through the campus convention hall where the expo was being held, dragging along what looked like an enormous black-and-blue bag. You quickly realized the “enormous bag” was really Idia Shroud, who was lying belly down on the floor. His dead-white hands were holding up his hoodie in a steel-knuckled grip, while his glowing blue, ethereal hair spilled across the floor from under it. Ortho noticed your group soon enough; his cybernetic eyes widened, and he waved, trotting over to three of you. You looked to Caelyum, who was staring bug-eyed, stunned by the bizarre tableaux. You had to admit, it said something that, somehow, you were a lot less weirded out. “Hi ya, Prefect!” Ortho chirped in his electronic way, as he stopped a few feet away from your trio. You could see that, now at a standstill, Idia was shaking like a leaf. “Uhhhh...hi,” you greeted awkwardly. “Nya! Why are you two so late?” Grim grimaced. “And what exactly is going on?” Cael asked, sounding like he was trying not to shout that out in confusion. “Oh! Well, um, Big Brother’s thingamajig that he uses for remote conference? It, uh...kinda had a malfunction,” Ortho said, an embarrassed smile flickering behind the mask-like apparatus on his android face. “Malfunction?” the three of you repeated, looking at each other, and then back at Ortho. “Yeah,” Ortho said, and scratched the back of his head. “My brother convinced a stray cat into our room so he could give it some food...but when he tried to snuggle it, it bolted back out the window, and knocked the device off a table and onto the floor. We...didn’t have time to fix it.” A keening whine from Idia made it hard from you to determine if you should laugh or just feel sorry for the poor, anxious noble son. “Yeesh...and that’s what all this is about, huh?” “Yep!” Ortho siad, cheerily. “Big Brother still has to attend his final for the class, after all! So I made sure to get him here with enough time to set up shop!” Ortho’s chest was puffed out with pride; you swore, if he had a tail, it would have been wagging like a puppy’s. You couldn’t help but smile, even as Grim and Cael both rolled their eyes, crossing their arms over their chests. “Well, good job, Ortho; that’s being responsible!” you said, and playfully patted the boy-like droid’s head; you would never understand how that fire-like hair DIDN’T burn your fingers, but no matter. “I’m sure once he’s done having a panic attack, he’ll be proud of you.” Ortho giggled happily and his eyes crinkled with another sweet “smile.” You now turned your attention to Idia, as Ortho released his leg. The instant, Idia felt his leg being let go, he stopped shaking and froze. Slowly, he rolled onto his back...and huge amber yellow eyes, glowing like warning lights, peered out from behind the hoodie. Idia took one look at the crowd in the hall, and the faces looking at him...and squeaked like a mouse before hiding his face. He clumsily tried to get to his feet and run away...only to let out a shrill, strangled sound as he tripped on his own feet and fell over. Ortho let out an “eep!” and rushed to catch hold of his brother before the computer genius could eat tile. “Nervous, Idia?” Grim drawled with a smirk. Cael couldn’t help but chuckle as Idia whimpered with terror, quivering once again. “P-People,” came Idia’s voice behind his hood. “Too...t-too many people...please...t-take me back to my room...I-I’d rather watch the English dubbing of Ghost Stories than do this…heck, I’d rather play Iron Gear: Survive than be here...!” “Not till you finish your presentation,” Ortho said. “Come on, Big Brother! Show everybody how cool you are!” “I don’t wanna be cool!” Idia nearly sobbed. “Please, not this! Not…” He gulped and nearly choked on the next words. “...T-Talking to people...having them judge me...no, no, not that…” Idia shook his head behind his hood stubbornly. Ortho looked at you helplessly. You sighed and knelt down to Idia’s level. You cautiously reached out to the trembling socially anxious scientist, who whimpered as he felt your hands brush against him, and curled up tightly, as if afraid of being struck. With a sympathetic smile, you carefully parted his hands and pulled down his hood. His face now fully exposed to the outside world, Idia blinked his giant yellow eyes at you with real fear. His dark lips were trembling, and you swore those golden irises were getting a little misty as he looked on the verge of crying with fear. You could hear his shark-like teeth chattering as if winter had come early that year. “Idia,” you said softly, “It’s got to be done, and you’re the only one who can do it.” “Why is that?” peeped Idia, childishly. “Because it’s YOUR creation, Idia,” you said, with an encouraging smile. “No one knows it better than you do.” “Yeah! It’s not like we can talk about all this science-y junk!” Grim broke in...then subsided when Idia reacted by looking hurt, while Ortho gave him an almost murderous glare. “The presentation only has to be a few minutes long,” Cael thought to put in helpfully. “A few SECONDS is too much!” Idia said, and hurried to try and hide his face again...but you prevented it with your hands as you carefully held his wrists. His black-nailed fingers twitched with mortal dread as he looked into your earnest, honest eyes. “Idia, does Ortho know anything about the project?” “Well...n-no, not enough to tell them everything,” Idia admitted, squirming uncomfortably and almost guiltily, like a child admitting he’d stolen five cookies from the cookie jar. “Is there anybody else who could give the presentation on your behalf, with the knowledge you have?” Idia blinked. Those last few words seemed to have stirred something in his breast, and he looked at you anew, blinking a few times, as realization dawned on his pale face. “...No...I guess not,” he said, softly. “Well then?” you urged, tenderly, raising one eyebrow. Idia bit his lip; his sharp teeth almost drew blood. (Almost.) “...But...b-but I’m scared,” he cheeped out, like a wounded baby bird. It took all your willpower not to kiss his forehead. How could a denizen of the Underworld be so friggin’ cute?! “It’s okay to be scared,” you assured him. “Being brave means doing things even though you are scared.” “No, being brave means enduring unpleasant situations without showing fear,” Idia droned. “That’s literally in the dictionary.” “And how brave do you think the Lord of the Underworld was when he fought the Mighty Hercules?” “A lot braver than I am!” Idia replied, without missing a beat, and promptly hid his face again, rolling onto his side, like a child refusing to get out of bed. “I’m not doing it!” You bit your own lip, and looked around awkwardly. A LOT of people were staring, and that was only going to make Idia feel worse. You had to pacify this quickly. “Mr. Shroud.” You blinked up at Caelyum, who knelt down beside you with a reassuring smile of his own. Idia peeked out of his hoodie timidly. “Wh-What?” “Once this is over, I’d be happy to give you a free Jumbo Jar of Jelly Babies from the Mystery Shop as a reward for your efforts,” Cael offered. Idia’s eyes went wide at the mention of so much candy. “...F-Free?” “Yes,” Cael nodded. “I’ll just put my own money back into the shop to make up the expense. BUT,” he said, in a stern, almost parental tone, holding up one finger, “You have to at least try to make your presentation first.” Idia licked his lips, but he still looked uncertain. “...What if they don’t like my creation, though?” he whispered, shivering a little. “They’ll love it, Big Brother!” Ortho declared. “It’s the best thing ever! You’re so smart, it has to be!” “And all three of us,” you thought to add, “Will be there. Myself, Cael, and Grim: we’ll be watching and cheering you on.” Idia squirmed again. “...The watching part I could live without, but…” Finally, at long last...he gave a scared, small, hesitant smile. “...The cheering part...I-I’d appreciate it,” he chuckled, and seemed to perk up a bit. “And, h-hey...I get lots of candy out of it, yeah?” “Sugary gummies galore,” winked Caelyum. Idia paused once more, and took a deep breath, before finally relenting: “F-Fine...I’ll...I’ll try not to screw up...” “That’s the spirit, Brother!” cheered Ortho joyously, and helped Idia to his feet. Idia gave a nervous nod to his brother, then gave you a shy wave and a smile that showed just a hint of his pointed teeth, as the young android led him away to another part of the hall. Both yourself and Caelyum stood to your full heights and sighed with relief. “Sam’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled. “He gets pretty strict with inventory; I think it’s the con-man in him…” “Just don’t make a deal with him, and you’ll be fine,” Grim giggled. “You know, maybe another incentive we could have used was a chance for ‘snuggle time’ with a certain ‘Little Monster,’” you said, airily, giving Grim a teasing smile. The cat-like little beast blushed bright red, and his ears flared up. “Th-That’s not funny, Minion!” he snapped, huffishly, while Cael chortled merrily at the thought. Just then, another laugh was heard from the far end of the hall; you recognized it instantly. “Xavier?” you murmured, remembering the strange scientist from a few weeks ago. “Sounds like the judging has begun,” Caelyum remarked, as he noticed a group of official-looking gentlemen, along with some students, gathered in the area. “Nya! Let’s go see what’s up!” Grim suggested, and loped off on all fours to do exactly that. You and Caelyum shrugged to each other, and followed at a casual pace. You soon came to the panel hosted by Xavier. To one side stood Abe, who had traded out his porter’s costume for a buttoned-up labcoat...although, amusing, he still wore his porter’s cap upon his head. The mechanical man’s mask-like, expressionless, featureless face somehow still managed to look rather bashful as he waved shyly at the mob that now surrounded the corner spot. It was Xavier Madoc himself, however, who most arrested your attention. He stood in front of a table, over which was draped a light gray table cloth...and on top of that was a large, oddly-shaped...something. No one could tell what, exactly, for a second tablecloth - also colored gray - was covering it. Xavier was dressed in a long labcoat, which stretched past his knees and halfway down his shins. Underneath this, the eccentric inventor wore blue jeans and white tennis shoes; the former was held up by a peculiar teal-colored belt. A light gray midriff shirt, with black pinstripes, was perhaps the weirdest part of his ensemble; emblazoned on his chest, upon this shirt, was an unusual design: a black-stenciled image that, on one side, resembled a skull, while the other side resembled a clockwork gear, the two parts meshed together unsettlingly. With his wild, wide grin and the way he bowed to the crowd - more like a circus ringmaster than a distinguished scholar - one couldn’t help but find him a most uncommon figure. “Ladies and gentlemen...and undecided!” he greeted, and laughed at his own joke (no one else did, but he didn’t seem to care) before continuing: “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Xavier Madoc! Also, allow me to introduce my trusty counterpart, Abe! His name stands for Assistant Bot Extraordinaire. Yeah, ha, not the most, uh...SCIENTIFIC name I could’ve come up with, but what can I say? I liked the acronym.” Abe rolled his electronic eyes and nodded to the judges, who nodded back before refocusing on Xavier, who rubbed his eyes as he moved to the opposite side of the table from Abe. “Friends and colleagues of science, let us talk about emotions, shall we?” he began, still speaking in an almost carnival-esque tone of voice, which made Cael roll his eyes and scoff. “He sounds almost like Sam at times,” the Swamplands native mumbled. You and Grim smiled at him, then looked back at Xavier as he began his spiel. “Emotions are a fickle thing,” Madoc said, lifting a finger in emphasis. “Emotions can be our strength, but they can also be our weakness. What a beautiful world it would be if we could all be logical, without those...pesky things like jealousy or greed to spur us in the wrong direction. Even here, in a school of black magic, love is just as revered as vengeance. There is a reason, of course...two, really. One, I would argue, is human frailty. We cannot help ourselves; we are, very tragically, made to be feeling creatures more often than thinkers. But another is perhaps more practical, in this particular world...and that, my friends, is that we need it as fuel. Magic is a powerful entity in our world, arguably more than science, and while it is not uncommon for the two to mesh together, no one has found a way to properly harness the power of the human spirit that allows our magic to work. Well, my friends...I, Xavier Madoc, have found the solution to that quandary!” So saying, Xavier through out both arms in a grand gesture and sang out: “TA-DA!” Silence. Nothing happened. The judges and the crowd just stared at Xavier awkwardly. Xavier blinked, then looked to Abe, who was looking around the room blithely. He frowned and whistled, getting the droid’s attention. “Abe,” he said, and pointed to the table. “You’ll want to take off the tablecloth on that cue, ‘kay, buddy?” Abe nodded, and scooted closer to the table. “Thank you,” whispered Xavier, and tried again, louder: “TA-DA!” A horrible grinding sound was heard as Abe grabbed the tablecloth on the table, nearly knocking over the item under the second veil as he gave it a tug. Xavier yelped for him to stop, and swooped in just in time to right the object before it could crash to the floor. You forced yourself not to laugh; Grim and Caelyum were not inclined to do the same. “So much for ‘the perfection of machines,’ huh?” the fluffy little imp whispered. “Hush!” you scolded...but internally, you conceded he had a point. Abe shuffled sheepishly as Xavier brushed his mint-and-cerulean bangs from his face and gave him an impatient, toothy smile. The dark doctor-in-training could hear some of the crowd snickering, and he hated it. “Not THAT tablecloth,” he said through clenched teeth, and pointed to the device under the covering. “THIS tablecloth. Got it?” Abe nodded, looking like a scared child. “Thank you,” Xavier sighed in frustration, and took a deep breath before trying one more time: “TA-DA!” Finally, Abe swirled off the right tablecloth with great panache. Underneath it was unveiled a strange machine, about the size and shape of the average backpack. Most of it was covered in white leather, but several mechanical apparatuses were jutting from it. Among these were two large copper tanks on either side, several steel cylinders, and two long tubes of tough, transparent rubber, which led from one of the sets of caps into the copper tanks. Two beige-colored leather straps were attached, and it was into these straps that Xavier slipped his long, lanky arms, putting the strange pack on his back. “Introducing my newest invention!” Xavier declared with a beaming, proud smile. “The Emotion Reservoir Power Converter - or ERPC, if you want to shorten it. We can’t all have cool acronyms like Abe, heh...ANYWAY! I would argue that negative emotions have more importance here than positive ones: Blot is the result of an overabundance of black magic use, and much of dark wizardry involves the channeling of negative power. The ERPC can drain small doses of negative emotional energy directly from the subject, and then convert them into magical energy, without the user suffering a state of Overblot!” “Can you give us a demonstration?” one of the judges spoke up. He was a portly man, with spectacles perched upon a crooked nose. “I hoped you would ask that, Dr. Alcott,” Xavier answered with a Devil-May-Care wink, then looked to his robotic companion. “Abe? The book, please!” The robot nodded, and reached into the folds of his labcoat, before handing his creator a small book with a bright pink cover. On it was the title “Princess Pony and the Island of Fluffy Squirrels,” by Lorina Faustus. Xavier blushed bright red and swatted at Abe, who hurriedly put the book away while giggles and chuckles once again came from the audience. “I told you not to…! THE OTHER BOOK, ABE!” Abe quickly fished a second book out: this was a black leatherbound volume with the image of a galaxy festooning its front. Xavier took it and sighed, shaking his head before flipping to a bookmarked page. “Here,” he declared, pointing at the page in question and tapping it with a finger, “Is an excellent example. Keep in mind, gentlemen and ladies, I am but a first year here. The spell I’m about to perform is typically a fourth-year level spell, and I have taken no classes on the subject. Should you wish for confirmation of this later, simply consult the members of the staff on standby today.” Xavier thus cleared his throat, and lifted one hand, extending his thin fingers towards the ceiling before mumbling the incantation in the book. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow and gritting his teeth, trying to concentrate...his fingers clawed as he flexed them, arm trembling as he forced all the power he could muster into his spellcasting… A dim, murky cloud of purple - shapeless and formless - hovered over the heads of the judges. Specks and blotches of many hues, like splatters of watercolor on a half-burned piece of parchment, appeared and disappeared...before, finally, Xavier gasped and relinquished the attempt, and the colors all faded, the cloud dissipating in an instant. “Haaaaah...a-as you can...ahem...as you can s-see,” Xavier gasped out, wiping some sweat from his brow. “That was hardly an easy task, gentleman...and hardly a good demonstration of that spell. Thankfully, my new invention can allow me to ‘upgrade’ my abilities, through use of my Unique Magic…” He lifted his left hand, the one that he had first used to try and enact the spell, and flexed his fingers as he recited his magic words. “...Paint & Thinner.” There was a flash of turquoise-toned light...and suddenly, Xavier’s left arm had undergone a startling and somewhat disquieting transformation. The fingers and thumb of his left hand had turned into a set of what looked like syringes, the needles resembling claws, his whole hand now seemingly mechanical and metallic. “My power,” Xavier smirked, flexing his taloned hand, “Allows me to extract emotion from a person. This is the ‘Thinner’ part of the equation. The emotional energy is converted to a liquid state. I can, of course, also return the emotions to their original owners, in a gaseous state: this is the ‘Paint’ aspect. Now, I know this is, uh...you know...a little freaky, but...I’m going to need a volunteer.” He handed the spellbook to Abe and added: “My assistant doesn’t exactly have veins to target.” Naturally, at first, nobody stepped forward. Xavier’s expression shifted, and he started to seem crestfallen, perhaps even a little scared… You sighed, shook your head, and stepped closer, raising one arm. “I volunteer,” you said. Xavier grinned, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Prefect,” he said, and addressed the audience as - with the clinical care of a master surgeon - he pulled you closer by one arm. “Everyone watch closely, please.” He then looked back at you; his voice was the professional, bland calm of a medical expert as he said the timeless refrain: “This won’t hurt a bit.” The syringes were inserted into your arm. You closed your eyes, trying to relax, remembering all the injections you had gotten. You did not feel the slightest prick as they did their work, and soon, bright green fluid - the color of some toxic acid - was drawn from your very body into the syringe fingers. “Sit down,” whispered Xavier, in the same clinical, almost cold tone, easing you into a nearby chair which Abe had prepared. His actions seemed more dismissive than in the vein of proper bedside manners. You sank into it gratefully. You felt...lightheaded. Cold. Almost ill. You didn’t know it at the time, but before the congregation of onlookers, your skin had suddenly turned very, very pale, and your hair and eyes had lost all color. Even your clothes seemed to have become more faded, causing you to look like a monochrome character from a black-and-white movie. You hoped the sickening, hollow sensation inside you wouldn’t last long as Xavier turned to the audience again. “Generally speaking, draining the emotion from the victim will leave them feeling weakened; enough power drawn can lead to them being rendered unconscious. My machine allows me to withdraw more than I would usually be able to manage in a single dose without even touching the subject, should I wish...but for safety purposes, I think we had better focus on the OUTPUT demonstration. Observe…” He closed his eyes...and suddenly, the syringes emptied, as if the power was being drawn through his arm and into his core...then, the same green fluid bubbled through the pipes, and a slosh came from the copper tanks as your emotions filled them with liquid energy. “Now,” said Xavier, and waved a hand for Abe to open the book and show him the page, as his syringe hand lifted to the ceiling. “Let’s see if the emotional energy I’ve drained from my volunteer can be converted to enough magical power, via the ERPC, for the spell I attempted earlier. Remember, everybody: first year here…” Once again, Xavier lifted his hand to the ceiling...and this time, as he spoke the incantation, the purple cloud became a beautiful circle of deep indigo, revealing the boundless reaches of outer space. Splashes of color became perfect images of planets and stars, so real in appearance one swore they could touch them. In fact, one student DID try to touch one...and yelped, as the sun actually burnt their finger slightly. “Careful,” chuckled Xavier, and then flexed his fingers...and the beautiful image disappeared. He then turned to the judges and, without a word, bowed. He had rested his case. The judges seemed most impressed. Dr. Alcott and the others applauded and smiled, looking quite pleased. However, they had other presentations to attend to, and after a few more perfunctory questions, they moved on. As the judges moved on, and the crowd went with them, Xavier looked two, kneeling down to look at your face. You felt dizzy and queasy, and the look on his face indicated he could tell. He extended his fingers. “Breathe normally,” he instructed, and a faint blue mist poured from the needle like fingers...and you sighed as you felt the ill feeling go away. Steadily, the color flooded back into your being at the same time. “Oh, dear Gods...wh-what was that?” “That was what it was like to be drained of emotional energy,” Xavier said, and gave an anxious sort of smile. “Pretty icky, huh?” “You said it,” you grumbled. “That was a bold decision, Prefect,” Cael observed, as Grim nodded in agreement. Both he and the imp looked rather concerned; they had lingered behind to check on you. Abe placed a mute hand upon your shoulder. You glanced up briefly at the featureless mechanical man, then smiled weakly back at your friends. “Well, he needed someone...who else would have done it?” you reasoned, then shuddered. “I really don’t like needles though…” “Not my fault it’s how my power works,” chuckled Xavier, but obligingly lifted his hand and spoke the counter-curse: “Thinner & Paint.” Another flash of blue-green light, and his hand returned to normal. He gave it a shake, then extended it to you. “Thank you for the help,” he said, sincerely. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect anybody to put their best foot forward for me like that…” “I’m glad I could start a new custom,” you said, and shook his hand before shakily standing up. “I still don’t feel quite ready for work though…” “Give it a couple short minutes, and it’ll wear off on its own,” Xavier said sweetly. Just then, more applause came...louder than before. The four of you looked; Xavier frowned and the rest of you perked up as you realized who the next contender was… “The Shrouds!” exclaimed Grim. “Let’s see what they are up to,” suggested Cael. “Right,” you nodded, then smiled at Xavier. “Really cool invention. I hope you win!” Xavier’s eyes widened as he looked back at you, seemingly taken aback by the compliment and well-wishes...then smiled awkwardly. “Heh...uh...th-thanks, um...enjoy the rest of the expo. I mean, no one else is gonna be as awesome, but...you know…” You just laughed, and joined your friends, giving Xavier a wave as you strolled towards the Shrouds’ panel. You never noticed how Xavier’s smile faded into a cold, almost lifeless expression behind you while your back turned away. “No one else is gonna be as awesome,” he whispered to himself, forebodingly. Unaware of the ominous moment that had passed, your gaggle descended with the rest of the onlookers to see what the Head of Ignihyde and his “Baby Brother” had in store. Said “Baby Brother” was brushing humming in a vocoded-sounding way (he WAS an android, after all) as he brushed down a machine on the table. The device was not hidden by anything, the way Xavier’s power pack had been, which meant you and all and sundry could take a peek at it. It was...difficult to describe. The shape of the thing vaguely resembled a small ice maker, colored black and gray, but with three glass tubes on the top, each filled with strange fluids in primary colors: red, yellow, and blue. While Ortho dusted it off, Idia, was standing off to one side; his knees were almost knocking together, and his fingers fiddled endlessly with the dangling pullstrings of his hoodie as he stared at the judges, brow bathed in cold sweat. “Okay, Brother-o’-mine!” cheered Ortho, and looked to Idia happily. “It’s all set.” Idia said nothing. He didn’t move. He stared straight ahead, like a statue, still focused unblinkingly on the judges. “Uh...brother?” Idia whimpered, still frozen and shaking. “BROTHER!” shouted Ortho, fire-hair flaring up and turning orange for a second as he stomped his foot in frustration. Idia yelped and jumped about a foot in the air. “IWASN’TTHINKINGABOUTHIDING!” he exclaimed in a jabbering sort of way...then blinked when he saw Ortho’s pouty expression. (How the android could pout with no visible lips was anyone’s guess.) He flushed; Idia never blushed red or pink, but his cheeks turned a sort of bluish-purple color. “C’mon!” Ortho urged, and gestured towards the group. “They’re waiting.” This did not seem to encourage Idia, who flinched and looked nervously at the impatient judges. “I...um...uh...w-well, uh...aha...er…” You frowned, glancing with concern at Grim and Caelyum; the former matched your expression, while the other mostly looked bored. This was not going well. A thought came to you, and you stepped forward slightly. Idia must have heard your approach, because his eyes quickly darted to see you, and the encouraging smile you gave. Suddenly, he seemed to relax...but only VERY slightly. Idia was the sort to fear he was BREATHING too loudly and that would get on people’s nerves, he could only be so calm. Still, it helped enough for him to clear his throat and begin talking. “Ahem...s-sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a nervous smile, tapping his fingers together childishly. “I’m, ah...not used to this sort of...front and center kinda thing, heh...honestly, I wish I were hiding under my blankets right now...BUT! But, ah...I think the device I’ve made will at least be of interest…” So saying, Idia seemed to pluck up some courage. Your own smile widened as he placed a hand on the machine, and his stance straightened. If there was one thing that Shroud could talk about with SOME pride, it was his work. “I don’t need to tell all you that, uh...th-that the source of magic for m-many wizards and witches is their magic crystals, right? Right. So, ah...I, well...I got to thinking: the problem with the crystals is they can...well...run out. We have to mine for them, we have to dig for them, and there’s always a chance that someday...y’know...th-there might not be any left. Which would...kinda suck, ha. SO! I decided to try and create SYNTHETIC crystals…” He tapped the tubes on the top of the machine. “With these three simple potion compounds, mixed together in the right order, I can...well...do that. Using this machine.” “Would you say there are other advantages to this idea?” Dr. Alcott spoke up. “Oh, y-yes!” Idia said, starting to smile as he realized he had someone’s interest, though he seemed a bit nervous when he noticed the way the other judges scribbled some quick notes down. “Ahem...yes, sir. See, with synthetic crystals, not only do you not need to dig them up, but...well...if you have these compounds, and this machine, you can make as many as you like.” “Well, yes,” Dr. Alcott nodded, “But are they any more advantageous than natural crystals?” Idia paused, as if to think on his answer, then nodded slowly. “There is one other thing,” he said, almost shyly. (Well...there was no “almost” about it, this was Idia Shroud, but you gave him the benefit of the wiggle room anyway.) He paused before steadily elaborating: “Synthetic crystals do have a couple of weaknesses. They are not as physically strong as natural ones, for a start, the same way synthetic gems are not as strong as real jewels. You also can’t make them as large as natural crystals, because with the compounds being used, they can become unstable. But, at the average size of the average magic crystal…” He pointed to the one he wore himself, on his arm, before continuing. “...It can actually last longer than a natural crystal. It...well...um...I don’t know how to explain it, actually, but my experiments have shown that...well...you can use them for a longer period of time before worrying about Overblotting.” “Well, that’s definitely an advantage,” smiled Dr. Alcott, seemingly impressed, then turned serious as he scratched a few notes down before speaking again: “Can we see how this machine works?” “Y-Yes! Yes, of course!” nodded Idia...then tapped Ortho on the shoulder. “Little brother? Um...w-would you do the honors?” He then added in a whisper, “I’ll probably mess up…” Your smile became slightly less proud: Idia was still Idia. Ortho just giggled. “You can’t mess up turning the machine on, Big Brother!” he teased quietly, but still obeyed, pressing a button on the contraption. A loud whirring sound was heard, and the potions in the tubes bubbled and then began to lessen in volume; you could hear the sound of fluid being stirred and mixed, followed by the low humming buzz of another item either cooling or heating the stuff inside the machine… ...It only took about two minutes - during which the judges’ attention was raptly focused on the device, and several in the crowd mumbled to one another with interest - and then, with a rattle and a clatter, a teardrop-shaped, transparent, pale blue crystal dropped into a tray inside the machine. Idia opened the lid and pulled the crystal out of the tray, holding it up for everyone to see, then offered it to the judges, who inspected it closely. Finally, Dr. Alcott handed the artificial crystal back to Idia with a smile. “Fine work, young Master Shroud,” he nodded in approval. “Fine work indeed.” The other judges and the audience applauded. Idia smiled bashfully, tucking his head down and mouthing a quiet word of thanks as he hugged the crystal to his chest. Ortho, noticing the way his brother was shaking, gave him an encouraging hug as the mob and the judges - still chatting betwixt themselves - moved away. Once again, yourself and your friends stepped forward, all of you wearing matching grins. “I’m so proud of you!” you cheered, and gave Idia a hug. You felt the eldest Shroud freeze up in your embrace, and couldn’t help but smile still wider; Idia, bless his heart, still wasn’t used to much physical interaction, and you could feel him starting to twitch. You gave him a very gentle, comforting squeeze, and rubbed his back reassuringly. Only then did his arms steadily move upwards to gingerly return the hug. “Nya!” Grim called out happily, trotting over with a wide grin, purring up at the fire-haired Ignihyde head. “You did a lot better than I expected!” “An interesting invention, too,” Cael complimented. “I’m sure you’ll end up with first place!” “Oh, I-I dunno,” mumbled Idia, rubbing one arm and squirming slightly with embarrassment. “I thought Madoc had a pretty cool creation, too…” “His was neat,” nodded Grim, “But I think yours is better.” “His energy converter DID have one noticeable issue,” Cael thought to add, glancing back towards Xavier’s panel - by now, the odd scientist and his assistant had turned their attention away, and were seemingly polishing the power pack. “It depends on HIM in order to work. No one else would be able to use it: it’s not something you can mass produce, because no one else has his Unique Magic.” “That’s true,” Ortho spoke up. “But hey! The basic idea isn’t bad; with a little adjusting, he could make it something really special for everyone to use!” “If he cares enough to try,” mumbled Grim; he subsided at the look you gave him. “It’s up to the judges, and the contest has just started,” you said, crisply, then smiled at Idia once more. “Whatever happens, you did good. Don’t doubt that.” Idia smiled sweetly. “Th-thank you,” he whispered, then glanced at the crystal in his hand and back up at you...before offering it cautiously. “Would you...like a souvenir? Heh…” You chuckled, and took the crystal, placing it in your pocket. “Sure,” you said. “Thanks, Idia.” “Y-You’re w-w-welcome,” stuttered Idia, looking like he was scared of feeling too happy. He paused and cleared his throat with a cough before reaching into his hoodie’s pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “Well, um...I wanna catch up with a new show I’m watching, so...I’m, uh...y’know...gonna go find a nice, safe corner till the judgment call comes, and...well…ju st, uh...exist, heh…” “Can I watch with you, Big Brother?” Ortho peeped hopefully. “Sure,” Idia said with a smile and a nod, then gave you the same gestures before scurrying away, looking like he couldn’t wait to get away from everything that had the power to breathe. Yourself and your two companions chuckled and gave a collective mock salute to the Shroud brothers, as Ortho followed Idia quickly. Then, still chattering amongst yourselves, you hurried to rejoin the group and see what else was at the exposition… None of you were aware of Xavier Madoc’s eyes following the mob’s movements, before glancing back at Idia’s device. One could have sworn his one green eye flashed.

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The exposition had come to an end, and after two hours of deliberation, the judges were ready to deliver their verdict. The contestants had lined up on either side of the room, while the audience sat in chairs before a podium. Yourself, Caelyum, and Grim all took seats in the second row (the front row had filled up too quickly) and watched as Dr. Alcott approached the podium, adjusting his spectacles and shuffling some papers in his hands. You glanced to the right. Along with the other contenders at the expo, Idia and Xavier were naturally lined up, both on the same side of the hall. Xavier stood with a cocksure smile, arms crossed, while Idia was nervously twiddling his fingers, biting his lip with his dagger-like teeth. He looked towards Xavier and smiled nervously. “S-So, uh...may the best man win, huh?” he said, awkwardly. Xavier didn’t even look at the dorm head as he narrowed his eyes and simply said, “Don’t worry. I will.” Idia looked a bit befuddled. Abe and Ortho - who stood beside their corresponding creators - looked at each other and shrugged. The sound of Dr. Alcott brought your attention back to the podium. “It’s time,” Cael and Grim murmured at the same time, as the lead judge addressed the audience, crooked nose pointed high. “Friends of science,” the doctor began, “I am not one for grand speeches or over-sentimentalizing the talents we’ve seen on display here today. Virtually every experiment we viewed today, every invention created or formula concocted, was of interest.As far as those doing this for an assignment go, my supposition is you will all pass with flying colors. However, there can only be one winner: one person to leave this exposition a proper champion.” He snapped his fingers and one of the other judges stepped up beside him, and handed him a trophy, with a golden ornament resembling a ringed planet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Alcott intoned, “The winner of the Annual Science Expo is…” Xavier smirked, and straightened up his labcoat, taking a deep breath, as if ready to thank everyone… “...Mr. Idia Shroud!” Xavier froze, the smile seemingly slapped from his face as his eyes widened. Idia’s eyes widened too, and he gasped in surprise as the crowd applauded. One could almost see tears in his eyes as he realized what had happened. Yourself and your party cheered as Ortho nudged Idia up to the podium to accept his trophy, which he did with trembling fingers. You were grinning from ear to ear, and so was Idia; his shark-toothed smile had never been wider, you felt, nor more genuine in nature. His amber eyes sparkled like a pair of glittering gold coins. As Dr. Alcott began to congratulate Shroud - who was hugging the trophy to his chest almost like a teddy bear - you turned to see the other contenders. Most of them - including Abe - were clapping politely. The only exceptions were Ortho, who was literally dancing with joy… ...And Xavier Madoc. He looked absolutely livid. His face was almost as red as Riddle Rosehearts’ could get, his fists clenched, one eye twitching as he gritted his teeth angrily. His mismatched eyes were burning… You felt your blood run cold as the blue eye was surrounded by a matching aura. “Grim!” you hissed, tapping the feline-like creature on the side. Grim turned fast...and his ears flattened back and he mewed as he saw droplets of ink dripping from the magic crystal Xavier wore… “Oh, no,” he gulped nervously. “What’s wrong?” Caelyum whispered...then frozen when he saw the same. “Oh, barnacles...is that…?” “Overblot,” you replied, gravely. “Here we go again…” Just as Dr. Alcott shook Idia’s hand, and was about to dismiss him, Xavier suddenly let out a screeching cry of apoplectic rage, which startled everyone present. All eyes watched as the white labcoat of the first-year science master flapped behind him like the wings of a huge war bird, as he flew back towards his panel, and hurriedly strapped the ERPC to his back. “Unacceptable!” he shouted. “I will not allow it! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! No one outsmarts me! NOBODY! My machines are perfect! My work is superior in every way! And if you doubt that - if ANYONE STILL doubts that…!” A feral grin came to his face as he extended one arm. “...Then I’ll just have to prove otherwise, won’t I? Paint & Thinner.” A flash of turquoise light was immediately followed by an explosive sound. KA-ZAM! A gale wind ripped through the hall, as a swirl of black mist surrounded Xavier Madoc; you cursed violently under your breath as blue and green light burst through pockets in the spiraling cloud of inky darkness. No doubt Xavier’s strong emotions and the level of magic he had put out earlier had blended together, and with the power pack on, he could burn through magic and cause damage with greater force and strength than you could guess. “Brace yourselves!” you called to Caelyum and Grim, as everyone else in the hall dove or ducked for cover. “This isn’t gonna be easy!” “Is it ever?!” Grim yowled, while Cael simply squinted, watching with you as the mist began to clear… ...And soon, you could see the change that had come over Xavier Madoc. The right side of his body had seemingly not changed at all...but the left was another story. Not only was there now a blue aura surrounding his left eye, not to mention the metallic, syringe-tipped left hand...but his whole left side seemed to have become a cyborganic nightmare. The left side of his face was covered in metal plates, and his entire left arm and leg had become robotic in nature; the clothes on the left side of his body were seemingly frayed and shredded, exposing portions of a metal chest and clockwork-esque innards. In-between the joints of his limbs and face, black ink oozed like oil. Xavier’s one green eye was feral looking; bloodshot with a pinprick pupil. He grinned in a manic way, and let out a cackling laugh that rebounded off the hall walls. “HA HA HA HA HA! You dared to overlook my creations?! You spurned my talents, eh?! Then let me show just how powerful I can REALLY become!” he roared, and the ERPC roared to life as he thrust out his syringe hand. “I told you, I can extend my unique abilities without proximity! So now...NOW, ALL OF YOU, GIVE ME YOUR POWER!” In horrific fashion, the needles extended...and five members in the crowd collapsed as they were pricked, turning gray and pallid. Their entire being became monochrome as, in a split second, all emotion was drained from them and into Xavier’s being. Xavier shot out his claws again, the protracting talons jabbing into another five people and rendering them the same. Now, panic set in, and people screamed as they raced for the door. “Don’t leave in such a rush!” laughed Madoc, and snapped the fingers of his one human hand. The doors suddenly shifted, becoming solid walls, and all the windows clicked as they were locked into place. “The party’s just beginning!” Xavier’s claws lunged at you now, but yourself, Grim, and Cael all quickly dropped, ducking the attack. Three other people who had been standing behind you, along with two more, were drained in your stead. Xavier shuddered, a toxic aura surrounding him as the tanks were filled with more and more emotional energy. “More...MORE!” he bellowed. “If I can’t have your respect, I will have your rage...your despair...your panice...fuel me! FUEL ME!” Idia and Dr. Alcott ducked behind the podium with twin yelps. Ortho hurried to check on his brother, and barely avoided the needles as they shot out. The other judges weren’t so lucky, and crumpled in an unconscious, grayscale-colored heap as their emotions were drained. Abe rushed forward to try and stop his creator, desperately grabbing hold of Xavier’s one human arm. Xavier snarled, gnashing his teeth. “Imbecile and traitor!” he roared into the droid’s pleading face. “I have no further use for YOU!” Xavier jerked away his human hand, then, with a sneer, thrust it out again...and - THOOM! - a magical shockwave slammed into Abe’s chest, sending the robot flying. He crashed down beside your trio, the three of you still lying on the ground as Xavier continued to stick his needles into everyone who moved. The room was in a panic, the other contestants’ creations smashing on the floor as people dove for cover. Slowly, Xavier began to make his way through the hall, laughing dementedly. “All this over a freaking trophy?!” hissed Grim. “I think there’s got to be more to it,” mumbled Caelyum. Abe nodded, as if to confirm this, and then gave you a look as if to ask, Now what? This was the burning question; you had to figure out a way to keep Xavier from hurting more people, as well as remove the power pack. As long as he still had the converter on, his power wouldn’t drop. He could potentially stay in Overblot for a much longer period of time, burning the power almost as quickly as he got it...growing just strong enough to overwhelm… “Okay, I’ve got a plan,” you said at last, and whispered to your compatriots. “Listen closely…” Xavier, meanwhile, grinned as he approached a group of people, huddled together. “Let’s try an experiment,” he hissed, a mad grin on the young doctor’s face as he lifted his syringe hand. “I now know how swiftly I can drain an organism...now, can I make it more slow and painful?” He cackled, his victims babbling pleas for him to stop as he lifted his hand, preparing to shoot out the razor-sharp needles and drain them dry. “Every emotion in your body...slowly siphoning into mine...let’s see how long it can really-” FWOOSH! “Nya! Back off, crazy-coat!” Xavier jumped back with an almost animalistic sneer, and swirled his ragged cape around as he looked towards the source of the fire that had distracted him. Grim was standing in a ready pose, balls of blue flame held in each forepaw as he smirked challengingly. “Insufferable hairball!” shouted Xavier. “I WILL NOT BE DENIED! I WILL HAVE MORE POWER!” He lunged at Grim, swiping with his robotic talons, but Grim moved aside quickly. As Xavier plunged towards him, a loud smashing sound was heard from behind. The mad doctor turned quickly, and his one good eye widened in surprise as he saw that Abe had kicked a hole clear through the wall, and was ushering people through the hole and out of the area, Idia and Dr. Alcott leading those still conscious to safety. “NO!” shouted Xavier, and shot out his needles...but he was just too late as Abe blocked him, giving him a determined glare as they scratched helplessly against his armored plating. Then, giving Xavier an almost pitying expression, the robot leapt through the hole himself. Xavier moved to try and give pursuit, but Grim thrust out his arms, and formed a wide ring of fire that blocked the scientist’s path. “You think this will stop me?!” Xavier bellowed. “You can’t defeat me! My invention gives me power beyond yours!” “Good to know. I’d hate to have to refund anything.” Xavier stopped short and glanced about, trying to find the source of Caelyum’s voice...before, suddenly, he felt a strange sensation brushing up against his legs. He looked down...and screamed in a mixture of panic and rage as a horde of marble white Locker Crabs began to swarm over him, their pincers latching onto parts of his clothing and the edges of his inkstained metal carapace, trying to drag him to the floor. “GET OFF ME, YOU CRETINOUS CRUSTACEANS!” yelled Xavier, trying to kick and swat away the crabs, unaware of the shadow that stepped through a gap that formed in the flames, and approached from behind. The crabs snipped their claws at the leather straps holding the ERPC in place. Xavier slapped them away...then jerked as, suddenly, the weight of his invention was pulled away. “WHAT?!” he spat, and turned around fast, pupils pinpricks as he saw you jump backwards, holding the device in your hands. “NO! NO, YOU-GACK!” He hit the floors as the crabs tripped him up. You scampered back through the gap in the flames, which Grim soon closed up. The little monster was jumping up and down, pumping his forepaws/fists and cheering. “NYA! Get ‘im, Cael! Pin ‘im down!” the cat called. “We’ve won now!” A low laugh from under the swarm of Locker Crabs knocked the smile from Grim’s face. “Won? Hardly. I’m still getting warmed up!” ZAM! Xavier sent out another shockwave with a loud shout. You toppled onto your back, the ERPC falling from your hands and thunking onto the floor. The crabs scattered, and the flames were extinguished as Grim was sent rolling across the hall. You quickly sat back up...and shuddered. Xavier loomed over you, the acid-colored aura around him showing his fury as trails of spilling ink traced his steps. You snatched up the ERPC and scrambled to your feet, making a dash for the whole in the wall. “NOT SO FAST!” roared Madoc, and lifted his human hand. He screamed some foreign incantation, and the shattered section was suddenly patched up, the debris flying back into place, stitching together like a jigsaw puzzle’s corners. You swerved and made a dash for a window; you could break it, after all, even if it was locked. Xavier snarled out another incantation, however...and teleported directly in front of you. You skidded to a halt, but not fast enough as he grabbed hold of your arm with one hand, and lifted his syringe claws, a wild grin on his cyborganic face. “HA HA HA!” he cackled. “What a foolish attempt that was! You truly thought you could defeat me?! I will drain you till your very soul is rendered inert! Nothing can resist my power! With the ERPC, I can remain like this for eternity! And when the world grovels at my feet, I will build more machines! BRILLIANT machines! My mechanical creations will-!” FWOOMPH! A burst of flame slammed into Xavier, bowling him over and singing his labcoat. You fell back down and scrambled away as you held tightly to the power pack. Xavier snarled as he stood back up, his mechanical pieces clicking and sparking...as the two of you saw who had re-entered the room. It was Idia Shroud; Ortho had evidently picked the lock on one of the windows, and the pair had climbed through. Idia was visibly trembling, but tried his hardest to look brave, twists of orange curling through his ethereal blue hairdo. “Leave. Them. Alone,” Idia intoned. Madoc sneered. “First you steal my prize, now you RUIN MY MONOLOGUE?!” he yelled. “Alright! Just for that, I WILL OBLITERATE YOU!” Xavier charged at Idia, but the head of Ignihyde narrowed his eyes, gritting his sharp, jagged teeth. His hand shook as he held it, as if showing doubt… ...Then, his stance and expression hardened, and the shaking stopped. Just as Xavier Madoc leapt through the air, swiping his syringe claws through the air...he snapped his fingers. KRAK-KOOM! An explosive blast of fire and noise, like a grenade had gone off, erupted directly before Madoc. The explosion sent the mad scientist flying backwards, his labcoat tattered and scorched, black marks on his skull plates. Xavier cried out as he slammed headfirst into a wall...then crumpled to the floor, and fell still. He was out like a light. The mad doctor was done. You sighed with relief and stood up as Ortho cheered. “WOO-HOO! Way to go, Big Brother!” he exclaimed, and gave Idia a smack on the back. The hunched head of Ignihyde flinched and smiled shyly at his artificial sibling. “It was nothing,” he whispered faintly, visibly blushing. “Are you okay, Prefect?” Ortho asked. “I’m fine,” you nodded as you approached them, and glanced around. “Where are the others?” Right on cue, a low growl was heard. The three of you looked to see Grim was just sitting up, massaging his skull after evidently banging his head during his tumble. “Me-owwwww…! That creep hits way too hard!” he moaned out. “Did anybody get the number on that-MREOWR?!” He was cut off as Idia scooped the imp up and began to snuggle him, crooning and planting chaste, loving kisses on his head. “Awwww, the poor wittle kitty!” he cooed sympathetically. “Did you get an ouchie? Did the mean cyborg hurt you, huh?” “HISSSSS! I’M FINE!” Grim spat, kicking and squirming. “L-Lemme go! For the last time, I DON’T LIKE SNUGGLES, STOP!” Idia just let out a happy hum, squeezing Grim, repeatedly crooning, “Awww, poor thing, you poor little dear…!” over and over again. Ortho giggled sweetly, while you just rolled your eyes and smiled. A skittering sound heralded the reappearance of Caelyum, who reformed out of a pillar of white sand crabs. He stumbled on his feet as he returned to his normal state, and you placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You okay?” you whispered. “No,” mumbled Cael, and smiled wearily. “When I use the power that way, a fraction of my will - my mind - is in every single crab. I feel like I just got thrown through the loop-the-loop of a roller coaster seventeen times.” You gently patted his shoulder and smiled back, gratefully. “Walk it off, matey,” you said softly with a wink. Cael chuckled. “Aye,” he nodded, as your group moved to look down at the defeated Xavier Madoc. “I will.” For several seconds, the ink-leaking cyborg lay on the ground, unmoving. But that was alright: none of you were expecting him to move. By now, you knew the drill of how things worked after Overblot...and sure enough, after a few seconds, wisps of silvery-white mist began to drift up from the defeated scientist, as his whole body began to glow a blinding white. All of you shielded your eyes from the light, watching as the mist began to spiral, and soon enough, images formed in the center of the floating cloud. Pictures from the past… “Dad! Dad, look at this!” A tall, thin man in white, with a pointed goatee, looked down from the workbench he was stationed at. He smiled as a small boy - with mismatched eyes of blue and green - came waddling into the room, holding a piece of paper. “What is it, Xavier?” “I made a blueprint, dad! I wanna make a robot! Like one of yours!” squeaked the young Xavier, and held out the paper to his father. “Do you think it’s any good, Dad? Do ya? Huh?” The older man lifted the paper and looked; he chuckled at the untidy crayon scrawl drawn on the page, the acronym “A.B.E.” accompanying a childish drawing of a metal man in a porter’s outfit. “Not a bad idea, Xavier,” he complimented his son, and handed the “blueprint” back to its creator before ruffling his son’s hair. “You’ll make a fine inventor, at this rate.” Xavier giggled, playfully swatting at his father’s hand, then gave him a wide but shy smile. “You promise?” he peeped. “Could I...could I be as good as you, Dad?” “No,” the man answered, and leaned down, kissing his son’s forehead. “You’ll be even better.” The child’s happy hum was interrupted by the shifting of time, as a new image spun into view: Xavier was a little older now, and working in a laboratory. He whistled as he fitted a screw into place on a device he was building...only to freeze as he heard voices coming from outside the shop. Curious, he trotted over to the door, and peeked outside. He could see the shadows of two men, arguing not so far away, and heard what they were saying. One of them he recognized as his father’s voice… “Oscar, you can’t be serious!” “I’m sorry, Xander,” the other voice said. “All I know is that Charles got to me first. What would that tell you?” “That Charles is a faster runner,” droned Xander. Xavier giggled softly, but clapped a hand over his mouth to avoid being heard. “Very funny,” Oscar’s voice drawled. “I’m serious, Oscar. You KNOW me, we’ve worked together for years! Are you going to take his word over mine?” “Right now, I haven’t got a choice. His patent has been in development at my company for a while; all that’s left are i’s to dot and t’s to cross. Even if what you say is true, Xander, he finished his work more quickly; I’m not seeing a lot of incentive here.” A pause. “...So that’s it then?” came the terse voice of Xavier’s father. “What about my family, Oscar? What about my son?” “Relax, Xander. You’ll come up with more inventions, you always do, and I’ll be just as willing to buy!” “Forget it. I’ll find another person to sell to.” Another pause. “...Okay. Okay. If that’s how you feel about it,” came Oscar’s weak reply. “Goodbye, Xander.” “Goodbye, Oscar. Tell Charlie he knows where to stuff it.” Oscar’s shadow disappeared, and a few moments later, the sound of a door was heard opening and closing. Xander was heard sighing, and Xavier saw his father’s silhouette slump into a nearby chair. Curious, the boy trundled out of the room to his father’s side; the older inventor was sitting with his head in his hands, massaging his brow. “Dad?” peeped Xavier. “What was all that?” Xander blinked at his son. “Oh. You...heard that, huh?” Xavier nodded slowly. Xander blinked...then sighed and picked his child up, placing him in his lap. “Listen to this, Xavier, because it’s very important,” said the doctor to his son. “Not all inventors are good. You must guard your inventions well, and you must always do your best to make sure no one can top you. People will try to steal what you make, people will look for weaknesses in it. Never let them find any way to stop you.” He placed a hand under his son’s chin and gave a sad smile. “You’ll be brilliant someday...but with brilliance comes danger. You can’t trust anyone, understand?” “I can trust you.” “Of course,” chuckled Xander. “And I can trust my machines,” added Xavier. “Well, yes, but a machine isn’t a person,” Xander said. “Machines only exist to follow their programming. Machines will always do what they’re supposed to. Machines will only let you down if people making them make mistakes. People aren’t like that: people are flawed, and people are foolish. They will pass you over and cheat you if they find a way or reason. Never let that happen. Okay?” “Okay, Dad. I’ll do my best.” The scene shifted again. Xavier was now much older, nearly the same age as he was now. Abe now stood at his side as he worked on a project in his laboratory, building a new machine. “This is going to be the greatest thing ever!” he cheered, grinning to his mechanical companion, who nodded in happy agreement. “Just think of how much fun the science fair will be with this completed! Ha Ha! Man, Abe, we have this in the bag!” “Hi, Xavier!” The pair looked towards a new face that had entered the lab: a fellow youngster in red. “Oh, hey, Gus! What’s up? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the science fair?” “I haven’t figured out what to do yet,” sighed the boy sadly, then smiled weakly. “So, uh...I thought, well...maybe you could help me come up with an idea. I mean...you’re like a billion times better at this stuff, heh…” “Sure, I can help!” smiled Xavier, helpfully, and clapped his hands together, dusting them off, waving for Abe to go fetch a few books. As the robot marched off, the teen in red noticed the item on the workbench. “Hey, what’s that?” “Huh? Oh! It’s my project for the science fair. Looks pretty cool, right?” “Yeah! What’s it do?” Xavier explained quickly. The lad looked envious of his science-savvy friend. “Wow...I’ll never figure out how you can do all that stuff...you’ve gotta be the best inventor ever!” “Awww,” blushed Xavier. “It’s just a knack.” “Can you show me how you make it?” the teen asked, hesitantly. “Sure, if you want,” Xavier said, blithely shrugging and smiling. “Then I’ll help you figure out what you’ll do yourself. Sound fair?” The boy smirked; Xavier didn’t notice the cunning in his eyes. “Yeah. That sounds fair,” the classmate answered. The scenario changed once more. Xavier now glared with absolute hatred at the boy in red...who was smiling, chest puffed out with pride, as he showed off his machine to the judges, who cheered and applauded. It was a machine identical to the one Xavier had made...and the boy had made it first. Xavier had been forced to change his plans, and the experiment he’d come up with at the last minute had been sub-par. The cheat got first place. Xavier got nothing. Xavier snarled, fists clenching as the boy in red smirked in a sidelong way at him, and mouthed the word, “Sucker,” before continuing to bask in adulation. Xavier Madoc scowled as he packed up his items. He was shaking a little. “You can’t trust anyone,” he whispered to himself. “Well, you’ll see...you’ll ALL see...I’ll come up with something no one else can top. I will PROVE to you how good my science is. Just wait and see…” His mismatched eyes burned as he turned his back on the laughing classmates and applauding teachers...and stalked back to his lab. Alone. With his machines. “...I don’t need anybody. Just my machines.”

The mist cleared and evaporated, and the white light faded...revealing Xavier Madoc had changed back to normal on the floor. He was still unconscious, but the glow was gone from his blue eye, and the machinery parts had vanished. Silence reigned for a few seconds. This was not unheard of. By now, you had accepted there was always a “digestion period” where everyone was taking in what they’d just learned. This time, however...the silence stayed unbroken. No one spoke a word, looking like they were trying to properly form thoughts, even as Xavier began to stir again. As he did, he reached out with a hand, fumblingly, mumbling incoherently… ...And froze as someone knelt down and took that hand. Xavier looked up...and seemed stunned when he stared into the wide yellow eyes of Idia Shroud. For a moment, the two looked at each other...then Xavier pulled away with a sneer. “Cheat,” he hissed. “I never cheated,” whispered Idia, sounding surprisingly confident for once...confident, but careful. “It’s not that no one recognized you, Xavier; no one was trying to neglect you. It’s just...there could only be one winner. And I happened to be it.” “It wasn’t an easy decision, either,” added Ortho. “Oh, no?” Xavier grimaced, looking skeptical. “No,” Idia answered. “Dr. Alcott spoke to me before I returned: you would have been second place. Your invention really impressed him and the other judges, they just...felt mine was more easy to use widespread. Yours needed a few tweaks for them to give it the topmost prize.” “They said they couldn’t have asked for a better start to the expo than you,” added Ortho, in a quiet, helpful voice. The bitterness in Xavier’s face had faded slightly, leaving his expression blank and cold. He turned away quietly, and hugged himself, curling up against the wall. “You can’t shut yourself out because of one bad incident,” whispered Caelyum. “Trust me: I know what it’s like when you seal off your heart. It doesn’t get pretty.” “No one is invincible,” added Grim. “Well...except for me, but...that’s because I’m awesome.” You rolled your eyes at the hubris of “The Great Grim,” and knelt down beside Idia, looking into the heterochromatic eyes of the mad scientist. “Just because you’re brilliant doesn’t mean everything is going to be perfect. Similarly,” you said, “Just because one person did something terrible, it doesn’t mean you can shun all people. Everyone and everything has flaws. The important thing is to learn from them.” Xavier furrowed his brow and looked down at the floor for several seconds...then looked back up at both of you. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I...I shouldn’t have lost control. That was...that was childish of me. And...I’m sorry for what I did.” He looked to Idia and smiled shyly. “Your invention was...not too bad.” “Thank you,” Idia said, with a slight blush, and helped the scientist to his feet. Just then, the sound of metallic footsteps echoed out. The group of you turned...and Xavier’s heart seemed to sink as he saw Abe re-enter the hall, yellow eyes fixed on his creator. “Abe, I’m so, SO sorry,” Xavier said, seriously. “I shouldn’t have-EEP!” He was cut off as the metal man crushed him in a solid bear hug, nuzzling his steel cheek against his creator’s hair. Ortho and Grim both giggled, while yourself and Caelyum smirked. Idia, for his part, didn’t seem to know what to make of the scene. “I think he already forgives you,” you said teasingly. Abe nodded to show this was the case. It was obvious he was just happy his maker was back to normal. Xavier smiled bashfully and gestured for the metal man to put him down, then looked to Idia. “So, uh...y-you’re the head of the dorm,” he said, and rubbed his arm. “Do you, uh...like...have any ideas on how to make the ERPC better? More...accessible?” “I can think of something. You know...maybe,” Idia said with a timid smile. “I mean...I’m r-really not the best choice, I...I got the whole idea for MY thing from an anime-” “Anime?” Xavier asked, and perked up visibly. “What anime?” “Oh! Uh...Magica Marocca. It’s...um...a Magic Girl series? You, ah, probably don’t know what that is-” “YOU WATCH MAGICA MAROCCA?!” Idia blinked, stunned, at the sudden look of exuberant excitement on Xavier’s face. “You...you’ve seen it?” the otaku nearly squeaked out. “I love that series!” exclaimed Xavier. “I mean...okay, it’s not, like, the GREATEST thing, in terms of story? Kinda rushed...but I really love the art style, a-and the way it plays with the themes and ideas of a typical Magic Girl series! It’s like Watchmen, but for...that!” Idia looked like he’d just found his soulmate. “I feel the same way! A-And have you seen Glitter Cure?” “Rascal is one of THE best villains ever.” “I AGREE!” squealed Idia, clapping giddily, that wide, almost manic smile you saw so rarely stretching across his face, matching Xavier’s instantly. “Oh, my gosh, no one EVER knows about that one! This is great!” “It is!” nodded Xavier eagerly...then took his turn to blush. “Um...d’ya think we can...oh...I-I dunno...maybe watch some together?” “I mean...only if you want to,” peeped Idia, ducking his head anxiously. “I’m...n-not used to people who...WANT to watch it with me, heh...normally I-I can only talk about it online…” “I’d like to watch it with you,” Xavier promised. “And...and we can talk about our inventions in the meantime. Does...does that sound fair?” Idia nodded slowly, and began to smile wider once more. “Yeah...yeah, it sounds like a plan,” he said, then looked to Ortho. “Is...is it okay with you, Little Brother?” Ortho gaped. “...You’re asking me if YOU can have a VISITOR in the apartment?” “Yes.” “Like...you WANT to HANG OUT WITH SOMEONE?” “Yuh-huh.” “...Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my Big Brother?” You snickered. So did Xavier, as Idia smiled awkwardly. “You wanna come with, Abe?” the mad scientist asked his robotic companion, who saluted in response. “Great!” Idia laughed. “Let’s go then!” And with unusual, uncharacteristic joy, the otaku and the eccentric sauntered off together, their androids following them as the exit door reformed and they left the convention hall. You smiled. “Well,” you sighed happily. “All’s well that end’s well. Looks like Idia’s found a new friend at last.” “I’m happy for them,” smiled Caelyum. “Finding a person who you can connect with is important.” “Uh-huh,” nodded Grim. “Now, there’s just one problem.” “What’s that?” both you and Cael asked. Grim wordlessly pointed to the mess of chairs, scorch marks, busted machines, and dented walls that the hall had become. You went pale. “...Ohhhhh...right...I forgot...we’re the janitors.” “Uh-huh,” Grim said again, drably. “Well, good luck with that!” Caelyum chirped, and began to saunter off towards the door. “Hey! HEY! Where are you going?!” snapped Grim. “Back to the Mystery Shop,” Cael called over his shoulders. “I have a job of my own to do, me hearties! Take care!” “But-!” Your call was unanswered. Cael disappeared, leaving you and Grim standing alone in the mess. You both looked around, then at each other. “...Grim?” “Yeah, Minion?” “It’s moments like these where I wonder if helping people is worth it.” “I never wonder, Minion,” sighed Grim. “Moments like these, I know it isn’t.”

Your feet shuffled as you went to find the broom and dust pan. From saving the day to cleaning up the wreckage, a Prefect’s work was never done.

The End

#fanfic #story #commission #disney #twisted wonderland #oc #mad doctor #epic mickey #xavier madoc #idia shroud #ortho shroud #idia #ortho #caelyum de macabre #caelyum #cael #grim

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

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midnight in prague | tom holland

summary: you play MJ in far from home and when filming gets too stressful, you and tom sneak off from set to explore the city of prague at night while also talking about the idea of running away together

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader

word count: 1.9 k

warnings: a bit angsty but mainly fluff, one (1) violent metaphor, language

a/n: i highly recommend listening to the song, it’s absolutely beautiful, sets the mood and inspired this story. used some of the lyrics as dialogue. enjoy!

song/inspo: Canada (ft. Alessia Cara) by Lauv

↳ masterlist

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“That’s a wrap, guys!” The crew cheered weakly, lacking the usual enthusiasm. Not moving from your spot, you meekly pumped your fist in the air in mute joy. To say you were exhausted wasn’t just an understatement, it was a big truck that rammed and then dragged you through the empty streets of Prague. You’ve been up since 9 am and the enormous clock, that had surely become the focal point for everybody, almost signaled three hours after midnight.

Your scene partner was even more drained than you. Tom was barely twitching a limb—only a hollow shell, containing the last remains of his wiped-out energy.

With his head rested on yours, you believed he was dead asleep and lightly poked his side to wake him up. But he only reached out and held your hand in a loose grip, arms dangling between your bodies. “I’m awake,” he murmured, and you were sure he was talking in his sleep.

“Tommy, wake up,” you said gently and wrapped your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a warm hug but he didn't budge, “You’re compressing my brain, Tom.”

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes fluttering open to scan your face but only a second later did he realize that insomnia had caused him to believe your teasing for once. You couldn’t help but pout at the prominent exhaustion on his face. Footsteps on cobblestone and the movement of heavy filming gadgets made up your surroundings but you focused solely on Tom and the guilty look on his face. No words were needed for you to know that he was still sorry for something that he had no control over.

It wasn’t his fault that the weather conditions pushed the night shootings back and it certainly wasn’t his fault that cars were constantly driving over the bridge that you were filming at, forcing you to quickly jump to the side, only to shuffle right back to restart the scene.

But this was Prague and he was Tom. Much like his character, he had thoroughly planned a romantic trip for both of you and after weeks of gushing about it, he was sure he could make it work but something would always come up and push his plans into hopelessness.

At this point, he had accepted his fate but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t sad every time he looked at you and mad every time somebody said “action”. He loved his job and was forever grateful but for fuck’s sake, was it too much to ask for to spend some alone time with his girlfriend?

Just when he was about to open his mouth to apologize to you, you locked his lips with yours and he melted into the kiss, tense shoulders dropping. Releasing his lips with a soft plop, he sighed with a small smile, but his eyes still held sadness. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the others were already walking toward the van to drive back to the hotel to fall into a restless sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let Tom go to bed like this.

Your mind flicked to back home where you had naively envisioned your trip to Europe to be completely different—free and without a care in the world. You knew you were here for work, but you didn’t expect to have this many obligations that added to the constant pressure of having to deliver the perfect scenes. The world was counting on you to not fuck this up.

You sighed and looked down at the river. The water reflected the vibrant yellow streetlights and brought you a sense of much-needed peace and tranquillity. Tom watched you curiously as your eyes marveled at the scenery.

Your head whipped back to him and now you were beaming at him, a glimpse of mischief dancing in your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” Tom blankly stared at you and blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What?”

“I’m saying,” you dragged out and let go of his torso to swing his arms excitedly from side to side, he squeezed your hand, “this is our last night in Prague! We’ve been looking forward to this for the longest time, do you really want to miss it? Come on, we can sleep on the plane tomorrow. Let’s be carefree for once.” Your soul was fueled with sparkling joy and you forgot about your exhaustion. “Let’s be free.”

Tom took a second to contemplate your words before a wide grin broke out on his face and he nodded eagerly, surrendering to bliss. “God, I’m obsessed with your brain sometimes.”

With your hand still in his, you pulled him with you, excitement shimmering. Crossing the Charles Bridge, the two of you slipped away and entered the night you had dreamed of.

Golden lanterns on the side of the houses marked hidden but absolutely breathtaking alleys and for the first time on this trip, it was quiet and serene. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting everywhere, taking it all in with the deepest admiration. It was like you were falling in love with the whole world.

You had a bounce to your step and Tom couldn’t contain his bubbly feelings at the sight of you. He didn’t really understand what switch of yours was suddenly flicked for your spirits to fly this high, but he didn’t need to. He missed spending time with you. Back in the States, both of your schedules were packed and barely allowed a fleeting glimpse but now, the girl of his dreams was buzzing with happiness while the streetlights highlighted her glowing face and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t treasure every moment.

The darkness made the town appear like a secret fairytale village with its colorful houses and narrow passages. Your soft chatter lingered in the warm summer air and every time a giggle left your lips Tom’s heart filled with more love for you, warming him from within. With his adoring gaze, he spun you around. Your dress flying up and you stretched your arms upward, enjoying the carefreeness with a broad smile. You felt like you were floating, feet barely touching the ground as the both of you were dancing to no music.

Drunk with happiness, both of you laughed as Tom pressed your back against a wall. With his hands caressing your hips and your foreheads pressed against each other, your heart throbbed with profound joy, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Adrenaline and happiness consumed you, so much of it that you nearly forgot to breathe but you didn’t need to as Tom’s lips were already on yours. You pushed off the wall, sealing the tiny space between you and he deepened the kiss. Your heart almost broke with joy. Pulling apart, it left you breathless again and you were certain nothing could ever wipe off the stupid grin on your faces.

Arms swinging, the two of you continued your fairytale walk and ended up at the Charles bridge again where you had started off the night. Still high on emotions, Tom pulled you with him as he swung his legs over the rim of the bridge and gestured for you to follow. You didn’t hesitate and sat next to him, legs dangling over the river. You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your small frame as you overlooked the sight in front of you.

Your voice was delicate as you spoke, cautioning into the silence, “I really needed this. It's almost like I've been stuck at home forever.” Tom was playing with strands of your hair and you knew he was deep in thoughts.

Again, you watched the dancing streetlights reflection on the water surface but this time it didn’t bring you peace. You had your night and that was all you wanted. So why did you feel a pinch of sadness at the simple thought of heading to the hotel, settling into your bed and calling it a night. You didn’t want this night to end and you knew Tom also dreaded having to end this feeling.

So the question he asked next wasn’t a surprise to you in the slightest—it resonated with you.

“What if we move to Canada?”

He sounded hopeful. Musing about taking on the world in a different way than you both already did but he knew you two were in no position to be bold and just not give a damn. It was neither in his nor your power to be selfish. A sudden breeze left goosebumps on your exposed skin, but he dreamingly gazed at you with vulnerable eyes and you let yourself dream with him.

“We could bring Tessa,” you voiced, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “And your paintbrush and some candy,” Tom added, and awe transformed your face, eyes lighting up.

“I guess we’re lucky that we don’t need much outside of us, do we?” You chuckled softly and he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. He took your hand in his and started to play with your fingers, eyes looking heavenward. For the first time tonight, you noticed the endless stars sparkling from above.

“You know, when we film those movies...” He licked his lips and your gaze darted to his hesitant face. You weren’t sure if tears were brimming his eyes or if they reflected the deep water but they were glistening and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there. “...When they talk about those people in the movies who up and leave, I always think about how that could be us.”

He looked down at you, hands tightening around yours and now you were sure those were tears shimmering in his eyes. “That could be you and me.”

You didn’t answer and he didn’t need you to.

Both of you knew this wasn’t the heat of the moment talking. ‘Let’s get away from here and do our own thing’ wasn’t an option for any of you. Your thing was acting, you loved it from the bottom of your heart, and you wouldn’t be completed without that passion in your life and Tom—Tom was Spider-Man. Arguably one of the most recognizable cinematic characters in the world. Besides the fact that he couldn’t just quit, he didn’t want to either.

This was the life that you both chose. Unforgettable memories, unconditional support and overwhelming opportunities. There were also hours of press tours, draining interviews and nerve-wracking red carpets.

Your heart rate picked up at the single thought of it all but if tonight had taught you anything, it had taught you something deeply beautiful. Amid the chaos and pressure, amid the glamour and blessings, all you needed in the end was Tom by your side. He was the reason why you soared your highest heights and he was your support system when you plunged to the deepest depths. Gratitude flowed through you.

Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting it linger for a moment before you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck—brown eyes never leaving you. He returned the gesture by leaving a gentle kiss on top of your head, before resting his own on yours, pressing you closer into his body with a content sigh.

We are lucky that we don't need much outside of us.

* * *

wrote this at 5 am so it might be extra cheesy but i’m still too sleep-deprived to tell lol. i appreciate the hell out of feedback so feel free to leave me some and if you don’t, that’s okay too. thank u for reading, buh-bye! x

masterlist

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #actress!reader #tom holland x actress #tom holland x yn #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader fluff

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

Feel Like Home

Had a really strange dream last night and @goldcaught talked me into giving it some shape and writing this out. Just a quick little thing, will expand on it if I have time/the muse for it. Not really a huge number of warnings for this one. Does reference past potential sex but no details. Just magical shenanigans and Bonnie and Caroline being besties.

Caroline bit her lip, studying Bonnie’ face. Her best friend rarely wore such a worried expression anymore, but in this case she couldn’t blame her. In less than forty-eight hours, she’d dropped whatever her witchy business had been, gotten a cat sitter, and hauled butt to New York City.

And all because Caroline had called her with an SOS.

Fingers curling into her palms, she glanced around the high rise apartment they were currently camped out in. The space was gorgeous, all warm wood and wide open windows with lush furniture that invited you to linger. The floor was saved from being chilly thanks to a collection of gorgeous rugs, the art work on the walls tasteful and heart-breakingly gorgeous. The bathroom had been copy/pasted directly from her dreams and the tub was gorgeous and everything she wanted in life.

It was an apartment that she coveted, and one that was millions and millions of dollars outside of her price range. Just the view of New York City alone was a multi-million dollar addition. But her favorite fall jacket had been hanging in the closet, she’d found her awesome, weekend date to-go bag on the side of the bed. It had included a change of clothes and kick ass underwear. She felt safe here, welcome, and had absolutely no memory of how she’d gotten here or whose cologne lingered on the sheets.

“Okay,” Bonnie said finally, rubbing the wrinkle line between her eyebrows tiredly. “I’m really, really glad you called.”

Caroline eyed her doubtfully. “You don’t look happy.”

Bonnie waved her hand. “That’s not about you. Not entirely, at least.”

“Well, I’m not sure who else I’m going to call when I wake up in the middle of supernatural shenanigans, but I’m glad I called you too.” Taking a deep breath, Caroline looked at her beseechingly and tried not to panic. “How did I get here? I couldn’t find any texts explaining and we both know I'm a serial texter. How did I not send you fifty messages about my underwear choices for my date? My shoes? My dress? There isn’t a single hair check selfie on my phone, Bon. That’s impossible. I don’t just let someone talk me into visiting New York without at least a pro/con list two pages long.”

“Oh, I am aware,” Bonnie muttered. Running a hand down her face, she grimaced. “You can look at my phone for evidence later. But, Caroline. You’ve lived in New York for six months. You have a super cute closet for an apartment. I have pictures of that to prove it.”

“I…” her words died at the sincerity on Bonnie’s face. Blowing out a breath, because Bonnie Bennett would never lie about something like this, she cast her thoughts back and slowly nodded, relief heady. “Okay. Yeah. This spring. I remember packing my things in my rental and mom looking both relieved and tired.”

“Yeah, she’s wanted you to spread your wings for a few years. After the bout with cancer, you were being stubborn.” A lifted brow. “It was such a surprise. You. Being stubborn.”

Caroline gave her a disapproving look. “Do you have to say that like it's a bad thing?”

A small smile touched the edge of Bonnie’s mouth. “I guess it depends on what you are being stubborn about. Do you remember that big fancy PR party you were being forced to go to about six week ago?”

“No,” the word was said with great reluctance. “I feel like I should though.”

“Oh, you definitely should.” Bonnie drawled. “I didn’t attend and I know a great deal more about it than I would like. Clothes, shoes, departmental involvement and the dick from accounting who spends way too much time looking at your ass. Your boss, who insisted you go because she keeps thinking if she plays nice you’ll one day introduce her to your ex-werewolf boyfriend.”

Caroline did not want to talk about Tyler. “Your point, Bon?”

“You don’t remember Klaus.”

The name tugged something in her chest, a sense of awareness she couldn’t name, and Caroline frowned in concentration. “Who is Klaus?”

“The Black Dragon of New York.” At Caroline’s blank expression Bonnie sighed heavily. “Well, that confirms some of it at least.”

“Bonnie…”

“You moved to New York six months ago with a job offer for a Public Relations firm that specializes in supernatural reputations.” Her lips twisted in something like an amused grimace. “Your… history with witches and werewolves left you overqualified for the entry level position, as did your original internship in Chicago.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “By overqualified, that better be a comment on my personal awesomeness and not that they hired me because I dated a werewolf. That would have annoyed me. Why didn’t I remember that? I should have remembered that.”

“Because you don’t remember Klaus.”

Which made absolutely no sense to Caroline.

“Do I need to open wine? There was quite a collection that I am going to have no qualms drinking if that would absolutely help me understand the words you are saying.” Caroline threw her arms open wide. “I’m sure whoever lives here can afford it.”

“Spirits, if I thought it would help, I’d have brought tequila.” Bonnie looked heavenward and slouched backwards, something like gallows humor darkening her face. “Klaus Mikaelson is a dragon. A black dragon, specifically. He has been on top of the food chain for centuries, Caroline. He picked New York as his seat of power this century because he was bored in Europe. When he got here, he ate half the witch council, flattened three werewolf tribes, and casually made alliances with the necromages as if they were cute but annoying pets. He owns New York. He rules North America with a very, very short temper. Hell, I think he built this tower to his exact specifications because he now lives exactly one foot higher than every other building in New York. You would not believe how that man likes to lord over people.”

Caroline tried to recall the differences in dragon color and why that might be important and came up blank. “You’d think I’d know who he was with my job description,” she said faintly. “That seems like the kind of detail I would pick up on. And did you say this tower?”

Was there a floor above her? She hadn’t really spent a lot of time looking out the windows. She should have located the elevator and checked to see if it listed the number of floors. Figure out which one she was on. Something to do later then.

“This tower. But more importantly, you’d probably have remembered that you tossed your drink in his face six weeks ago at said PR Party.” Bonnie’s expression grew even more pained. “I’m told the flowers he sent you after that were very nice.”

Caroline tried to suck in air. “I did what now?”

Bonnie nodded, motioning with her hand towards the bedroom. “Two days ago, you went on what I’m pretty sure was your third date. And you apparently stayed over.”

Eyes widening comically, Caroline glanced around the apartment again, trying to comprehend was she was seeing with new eyes. “Bonnie Bennett, I would remember fucking a dragon.”

Bonnie snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth as she visibly struggled not to laugh. Her shoulders shook, breath escaping in faint, choking noises.

“This is not funny,” Caroline rasped, launching to her feet. Meeting her best friends watering eyes, she waved her hands dramatically around them. “You are telling me that I have been sleeping in Klaus Mikaelson’s bed for at least two days? And no one has been here to chuck me out? He hasn’t asked me to leave? Did he go on vacation? If he bailed on me like that and didn’t even so much as leave a note, I don’t care how hot he is, that was probably our last date.” Her eyes narrowed. “I even packed my cutest underwear. He did not deserve them.”

“You can keep the underwear thing to yourself,” Bonnie said hastily, voice still trembling with laughter. She cleared her throat, and tried again. “And to answer your question, no one knows where he is. That’s the problem. Forty-eight hours ago, the witch council announced they had successfully overthrown his hold on the city. Two hours later, you called me and said you couldn’t remember where you were or how you got here, but you had a really strong feeling that you shouldn’t leave.”

Caroline sat back down slowly. “What does that mean?”

Bonnie shook her head. “I don’t know. But what I do know isn’t… great.”

Caroline tried to smile. “That’s not really comforting.”

Bonnie ignored her.

“Klaus brought you back here, to his… for lack of better word, lair. You probably had sex.” Bonnie’s nose wrinkled, but she kept going. “Dragons are possessive at best, Caroline. I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but it took him over a month to sweet talk you into a date and yet you are keyed heavily enough into his wards that you were able to invite me, a witch, into his home without either of us getting fried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You also feel safe enough here that you didn’t bolt home in a walk-of-shame after waking up alone and suffering from amnesia. ” Her eyes were solemn, not a hint of tease on her face. “Whatever spell was used, it has wiped Klaus from your memory and life so thoroughly you don’t have so much as a text or picture linking back to him. So either you were caught up in the crossfire of the spell that took him out or the entirety of New York has also forgotten him. And none of those options are good ones.”

Caroline swallowed past her suddenly very dry mouth. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “But his magic is here, you're here. Which means he is alive and we are probably going to have to find him. And we will have to be careful, because if anyone from the council realizes that you’re probably the key to finding him, they’ll try to kill us. I’m already not super popular with some of the older factions, I cannot see this helping matters.”

“What, wait?” Caroline said up straight. “Why do we have to find him? Aren’t there other people who can do that? Didn’t you just say he rules this city? Surely he has like, minions or something that can do the heavy lifting?”

“If only.” Bonnie nodded towards her wrist. “But why us? Because you’re wearing his magic, Care. And while I definitely do not approve of dating a dragon, no matter what I think about it, there is no way his magic would cling to you if you hadn’t agreed to it. Probably. Which means when you aren’t dealing with a weird jedi mind wipe, you care about him. For some reason. And the Caroline I know doesn’t leave people behind.”

Caroline glanced down at her wrist and swallowed hard. Now that Bonnie had pointed it out, she could see the gold shimmer of a mark she couldn’t decipher beneath the familiar blue swallow on her right wrist. That mark felt… right. Familiar, as if she should have known it was there the entire time. Blowing out a breath, she glanced back at Bonnie’s unhappy face and grimaced.

“I bet we can find tequila if we look hard enough.”

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #yeah yeah #back on my dragon bullshit #what can I say #I like this trope

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (part 3)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing

---------

"Run that by me again. Because it sounded an awful lot like you just said the private investigator knows about your alter ego, and I know I must have misheard you," Foggy pleaded. His voice was getting higher with each passing word as his panic took hold. Matt was sitting in his office as Foggy paced the room after he told him about the girl and their encounters. Matt was still stunned himself how easily she pieced it together. He tried to avoid interacting with people as himself if he had as Daredevil, but even when it happened, like with Brett and Karen, people hadn't figured it out. Yet she had.

"You heard me right," he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"This is bad. This is worse than bad. She knows, Matt. She knows!" Foggy shrieked. Matt wished he had a volume button or something.

"Look, freaking out won't help anyone. I don't know what you want me to do about it, Fog. I already tried threatening her to keep her mouth shut and it backfired," he stated frustratedly. Foggy stilled, head whipping to him. Matt could hear his heart thundering in his chest.

"You threatened her?! What were you thinking, Matt?! You're going to piss off the girl who knows your very deadly and dangerous secret?!" Matt winced at the volume of his voice and also from his own stupidity.

"I didn't think. I just reacted. And she had no issues putting me in my place," he muttered with a bitter tone. It had been impulsive and reckless to threaten her but panic had seized him at the time. All he could think about was Foggy and how he'd go down with him. And Karen too even though she didn't even know. It wasn't so much what would happen to him but how his secret would ruin his friends lives if it got out. He felt hopeless. Like he was falling from a twenty story building at a rapid rate.

Foggy heaved a sigh, pulling his chair out before flopping into it.

"Okay… okay. You need to make nice. We need to get her on our side so she keeps her mouth shut," Foggy mused softly. That had been the issue. The words Daphne had used had been what unsettled him and also what seemed to bother Foggy. What would it serve me? As it stood now, she didn't gain from telling anyone and he knew she was telling the truth. Just like she had when she told him she believed he did good for Hell's Kitchen. But the second it would serve her, if she was in some kind of life or death situation and the only way she would get out of it was exposing him, she would talk. And pissing her off definitely hadn't done him any favours. He didn't need to give her a reason to run her mouth.

"I don't think making nice is going to work," Matt scoffed, remembering her attitude. She hadn't even been scared when he tried to intimidate her. She'd seemed more annoyed than anything.

"Well we need to try. If she's on our side, you can turn on that Murdock charm and she'll realise what a good guy you are. She won't want to talk. You're both working the Italians right now, why don't you team up or something? Work together," Foggy pleaded. It would have been a good plan, letting her in and seeing that telling people would be a bad idea. But he had a feeling that approach wouldn't work with this one

"Team up? And just how do we do that? Did you hear my story? She really doesn't like me and I haven't exactly given her a reason to," Matt bit out feeling the hopelessness eat at him.

"We could invite her here. Talk to her. I can talk to her, the whole best friend thing, you know? Maybe she'll listen to me," Foggy was reaching and they both knew it but this wasn't really a situation they had anticipated.

"No. I'll figure it out. Let's just leave it for now until I can come up with a solid plan," he said firmly. He didn't want Foggy getting involved. As far as she knew, his best friend was unaware of his double life. He knew it wouldn't take much for her to figure it out and that would only land Foggy in hot water. He wanted them far away from each other. Foggy let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head

"Fine. You better come up with something quick then," he muttered, standing and leaving the room. He should have noticed something was off with how easy his best friend agreed to let it go. But his head was too busy to notice.

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

Daphne was on her couch putting a new memory card into her camera. Her laptop was on the coffee table as it uploaded the pictures from the other one. Her purple hair was up in a high pony, dressed in black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. She was taking it easy until tonight. Most of her work took place under the cover of darkness. Tonight though wouldn't be anything interesting. Just investigating a cheating spouse which sadly made up most of her work as a PI. Her eyes snapped to her door when frantic impatient knocking filled her apartment. She scrunched her face wondering who was practically knocking her door down. With silent, light footed steps, she crept to the door and peeked through the peephole. What the fuck?

She swung her door open, the shaggy haired lawyer, Foggy, from earlier stood there. He looked like he was about to have a panic attack and it dawned on her that she was right. She knew exactly why he was here.

"Hi! Daphne, right?" He asked, a nervous grin on his face. She quirked a brow looking unimpressed.

"How did you find where I lived?" She asked plainly. His smile turned sheepish then and he rubbed the back of his neck

"Uh… I may have told Brett our firm needed to hire you," he said awkwardly. She rolled her eyes heavenward. Without a word, she stepped aside, gesturing with her head for him to come in. Shutting the door behind her, she sauntered back to the couch and sat down.

Foggy seemed to stand awkwardly for a moment as his eyes flicked around the open plan apartment. Then after looking at her and her cool glare, he shuffled to the armchair and sat down.

"Matt told me that you know. And he also told me he stupidly threatened you, which was totally not okay by the way. But he was panicking and not thinking right. But he's my best friend and I need him and if you told anyone then it's game over for all of us," he blurted, face red and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. She heaved a sigh, putting her camera back down on the coffee table as she levelled a look at him.

"I told the asshole I had no plans to tell," she stated slowly like he was a child. But he just scrunched up his face and shook his head.

"I know and that's great and all. But what if anything happened? You might not go to the cops or reporters, but what if one of the people you're investigating knows you know something? What if they put pressure on you to tell them?" He was panicked and looked ready to have an aneurism.

"And what? You expect me to just get tortured or lose my life for some dick I've met twice and who's done nothing but give me attitude and pin me to walls?" She snorted mirthlessly. His eyes widened and he shook his head again.

"Pinned you to walls? Dammit, Matt,” he muttered angrily before he rubbed his hands over his face.

She felt slightly bad for the man. He wasn't the one donning a costume and kicking ass at night and it seemed he was dragged into this mess by being Devilboy’s friend. She could see him unraveling.

"Look… I can't promise much but as I said, I don't care enough to go running my mouth. And honestly, I don't know how much Matt told you about me but I'm a stubborn bitch. If the mafia have me, even if I told them what they wanted to know, they'd kill me anyway. I probably wouldn't say shit just out of spite," she said with a rueful smile. He snorted a little, looking only mildly relieved. She was telling the truth though. She wouldn't know until faced with that choice if she would choose to tell or not but she knew no matter what she told them, they'd kill her. They'd kill her for not talking or kill her when she did because she'd no longer be useful to them. She was petty and she'd withhold the information simply to annoy them in her last moments.

Foggy nodded, the movement jerky as he released a shaky breath.

"I guess that helps a little," he murmured.

"It's the best I can do," she said with an apologetic smile. Just because his best friend was an asshole didn't mean he was. She did feel bad for him.

"Matt doesn't know you're here does he?" She asked knowingly after a moment of silence. He looked caught out for a minute and she chuckled.

"I… uh… no. I believe his instructions were to not come and talk to you and to definitely not get involved," he said sheepishly.

"This is what I'm talking about. You're loyal to him. You're his best friend. I don't have that loyalty to him, Foggy. I can't promise anything other than I already have," she explained softly, not wanting him to have a stroke from the stress he seemed to me under.

"What about a partnership? He's working the Italian case too, in his own ‘talking with your fists’ kinda way. You do your thing, he does his. You'll make a great duo!" He pleaded with a smile. She blew out a sigh and pushed some stray hair from her face.

"I doubt that would happen. He hates me and honestly, I'd end up killing him myself having to spend time with him," she muttered with complete honesty. Foggy deflated a bit and she felt bad for him. But there wasn't much she could do at all about the whole thing. Honestly she wished she hadn't stumbled across the truth about Daredevil’s identity. It was proving far too much trouble than it was worth.

"Look, I'll do my best even under dire circumstances to keep my mouth shut. But I'm doing it because I feel bad for you and not for your asshole best friend," she stated. Foggy grinned at her looking relieved right away. They both knew it was the best she could do. Not when she had no loyalty to Devilboy.

"Thank you," Foggy breathed, giving her a grateful nod. She stood up and he followed suit, the pair walking to her front door.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I was just…" he trailed off, frowning.

"Don't worry about it. You're a good friend, Foggy," she said sincerely. It made his face light up. How did he even get tangled with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?

"I'm glad someone notices," he snorted, "and honestly, I don't know what Matt was talking about. You seem pretty nice to me," he grinned. She gave him a mock glare as she pushed him through her open door.

"Keep your mouth shut, I have a reputation to uphold," she smirked. He chuckled and nodded. The pair shared their goodbyes before she shut the door. He was certainly a character.

She had no idea how an asshole like Matt Murdock ended up with such a kind and loyal friend. She couldn't help the pang of envy. She didn't really have any friends of her own. She just never bothered to meet people or to form attachments other than the ones she already had with her family. She rolled her eyes at her own envy before plonking back on the sofa. It was time to chill out until it went dark, then her snooping could begin.

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare Part 3

It’s Arianthi’s birthday and Diavolo has decreed she can have anything the Devildom can provide. She requests a slumber party at the House of Lamentation; her, the brothers, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos. Asmo has suggested a game of Truth or Dare and everyone is ready to play, but things quickly spiral when secrets and risky dares collide.

TW: body image issues. eating disorders

Written from the perspective of my female MC, Arianthi.

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Blackpink - Playing with Fire

Ursine Vulpine - Wicked Game (cover)

Dark Sarah ft. JP Leppaluoto - Dance with the Dragon

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Hollyn - I Wasn’t Good Enough for You

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Everyone refreshes their drinks and we all gather in a circle on the floor; Belphie immediately lays his head in my lap and Asmo cuddles up on my other side.

“Hey sleepyhead, you have to play too,” I say, ruffling Belphie’s hair gently.

He gives me a lazy smirk. “I will. I can’t wait to learn all your secrets.”

“Oi! I wanted to sit next to Arianthi!” Mammon complains.

“Too bad!” Asmo and Belphie say in unison, wrapping their arms around me.

I shoot Mammon an apologetic smile and he grumbles as he walks away and sits next to Simeon.

“Ok, what are the rules to this human game?” Diavolo’s eyes are glittering with excitement, while Lucifer looks like he’s trying to hold off a migraine.

“Super simple,” I answer. “Everyone takes turns asking another person truth or dare. If you say truth you have to answer whatever question you’re asked, no matter what it is. If you say dare then you have to do the dare, no exceptions.”

“Ok! Everybody is clear on the rules so let’s go! Birthday girl gets the first turn!” Asmo squeals in excitement.

I take a glance around the circle and settle on Beel, innocently eating cake.

Perfect.

“Hey Beel, truth or dare?”

He looks up from his plate in surprise. “Ummm, dare I guess?”

You truly are a kind and generous God. Good lookin’ out.

I shoot my eyes heavenward for a moment, then refocus on Beel.

“I dare you to streak around the House of Lamentation. Twice.”

“Urk!” Beel chokes on his cake, and Mammon slaps him on the back. Eyes watering and cheeks flushing Beel looks at me. “For real?”

“It’s the rules.” I shrug innocently.

Asmo is cackling with glee next to me, Diavolo is snickering, Lucifer looks like he wants to die, Solomon and Satan are wearing matching smirks, Simeon looks scandalized, Belphie is silently shaking with laughter, Leviathan is red to the tips of his ears, Mammon is glaring at me, and Barbatos is stone faced.

Beel shoves his plate away and heaves a sigh as he gets to his feet. He slowly starts stripping down, until he gets down to his boxers. He starts to walk to the front door before I stop him.

“Uh uh Beel, boxers too,” I say with a smirk.

He blushes all the way down to his chest and quickly steps out of his boxers.

“Goddamn Beel!” I exclaim without thinking. I already knew he was ripped but this....... this is perfection.

“Arianthi!” Mammon claps his hands over my eyes while Beel rushes out the front door.

We all rush to the windows to watch Beel complete his laps around the house. Mammon stays close behind me trying to cover my eyes every chance he gets.

“I could give you something to look at that you’d like better than Beel,” he mutters in my ear angrily.

I turn around and look him. “Do you really mean that Mammon? You want me to see you like that?”

“W-w-well I mean,” Mammon stutters are he turns bright red.

He’s saved as Beel sprints back into the house and slams the door behind him.

I roll my eyes, frustrated with his emotional constipation. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I turn and start walking back into the living room.

He grabs my arm to stop me. “Whaddya mean by that?”

I try to jerk away from him but he holds tight.

“C’mon, answer me.” Blue eyes meet mine, pleading.

“Let her go.”

We both jump at the sound of Diavolo’s stern voice behind us. Mammon opens his mouth to argue, but Lucifer’s presence next to Diavolo stops him. He lets go of my arm and takes a step back.

“It’s fine guys, we were just talking.” I give them a quick smile. “Let’s get back to the game.”

We all settle into our places in the living room.

“Ok Asmo, since this was your idea it’s your turn,” I tell him.

Asmo grins, slowly looking around the circle until he settles on Solomon. “Solomon, who has been your best lover since you’ve come to the Devildom?”

I roll my eyes and laugh a little.

Typical Asmo. He has to know the answer will be him.

Solomon takes a sip of his drink, his expression serious. “Definitely Arianthi.”

Oh shit.

“What?!” Mammon’s yell is so loud everyone winces.

The rest of the group immediately starts bombing Solomon with questions.

Asmo turns to look at me, his expression equal parts shock and pride. “Seriously?”

I shrug and take a long drink. “Yeaaaaaah.”

“I’m both jealous and intigued,” Asmo says, curling a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Asmo! Get your filthy hands of Arianthi!” Mammon yells again.

He whirls around to look at Solomon. “When the hell did this happen?”

Mammon turns back to look at me. “I thought I was supposed to be your first man?”

I stare into my drink, knowing I have nothing to feel guilty about but feeling guilty anyway.

Solomon looks at him and shrugs calmly. “It was Asmo’s turn and he’s asked one question. I believe that’s all I’m obligated to answer.”

“You motherfu-”

“Ok, so I think it’s Diavolo’s turn,” Asmo interrupts.

“Solomon, truth or dare?” Diavolo looks unusually serious.

The brothers and Simeon all turn to look at Solomon, waiting on his answer.

Well, damn.

I chug some more of my drink, already dreading where this is going.

“Truth.”

Goddamn you Solomon. Goddamn you and your magic dick and your pretty face.

“When did you and Arianthi have your little encounter?” Diavolo’s tone is cool, his expression unusually serious.

Lucifer tenses next to him, while Barbatos is almost smiling.

Once again, Solomon is the epitome of calm. “The first week of the exchange.”

Solomon directs his next comment at Mammon. “At that time I believe you were still refusing to call her by her name and doing anything you could to avoid your responsibilities towards her.”

Solid point Solomon. Solid point.

Mammon starts to stand but is yanked down roughly by Beel.

“Your turn Mammon,” Diavolo says, not taking his eyes off of Solomon.

These motherfuckers.

I realize what’s happening a moment too late.

They’re working together. Assholes.

I scowl are the carpet.

Belphie wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me. He realizes what’s happening too. I relax a little more when I feel Asmo's hand squeeze mine.

“Solomon, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Of course Solomon isn’t going to back down from their little game.

I finish my drink and start in on Belphie’s.

Lucifer attempts to cut in. “Maybe you should choose someone who hasn’t gone twice in a row Mammon.”

“Nonsense. We play by the human rules,” Diavolo answers before Mammon can.

Lucifer sits back and waits for Mammon’s question like the rest of us.

“Where did this little hook up happen huh? ‘Cuz it sure didn’t happen here, I woulda known about it.” Mammon is straight up pissed and my guilt is slowly turning into annoyance.

He has no right to be angry over something that happened months ago, before we had even started hanging out. He didn’t have a claim on me then. Shit, he doesn’t even have a claim on me now.

“At the library.” Solomon smirks. “If you would like specifics on where in the library- on one of the study tables, against a bookshelf, in front of the window that looks out over the quad, and in one of the armchairs.”

Diavolo and Lucifer look like they’re in shock, Simeon looks like he desperately wants to be anywhere else, Beel is still eating cake not even tuned into what’s happening, Levi turns red and stares intently at the carpet, while Asmo, Belphie, and Satan are outright giggling. Barbatos just looks at me with a smirk.

“Wha-?” Mammon is so angry he can’t even speak.

“It was a busy afternoon.” Solomon takes another drink, looking at Mammon over the rim of his glass.

I snort into my own drink, laughing, Asmo’s giggles infecting me.

Mammon looks at me, a mixture of rage and hurt on his face. “You really think this is funny? Him just spouting out your business like you’re just some -”

“Some what?” Belphie interrupts, suddenly alert.

Mammon bites back a response. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

Belphie looks up at me from his position in my lap. “I think I’d like to take a turn now. Arianthi, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

There is no way possible this night can get any worse. Might as well just go hard in the paint.

“I dare you to kiss,” Belphie trails off as he looks around the group. “Levi.”

Levi’s head shoots up so fast I’m afraid he cracks his neck, while Mammon lets out a low growl of pure rage.

I shrug and finish off Belphie’s drink, before I slowly crawl across the carpet to Levi. When I reach him I throw one leg over him and straddle his lap.

Levi is blushing so hard I can almost feel the heat radiating off his face.

I put my hands on his shoulders and lean down to whisper in his ear. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable or you don’t want to do this we don’t have to. I’ll make Belphie give me something else.”

Levi doesn’t say anything for a long moment, refusing to meet my eyes.

“It’s ok Levi, I don’t want this if you don’t,” I reassure him as I move to get off of his lap.

His hands shoot out and grip my hips, firmly settling me down into his lap.

“I want this,” he whispers so softly I can barely hear him.

I can feel everyone’s gaze on us as I tip Levi’s chin up so I can look at him. He’s still a little flushed, looking nervous but also excited. I can feel his hands shaking as he holds onto my hips.

I gently bring my mouth down to his. I can hear the wolf whistles and Mammon’s shout of anger before I devote my full attention to the kiss.

Levi is clumsy at first, pressing his lips a little too roughly against mine. I lick at his lower lip, encouraging him to open his mouth, flicking his tongue with mine when he allows me access. He moans into my mouth at the intimate contact, sliding his hands under my robe to stroke my back, before pulling me down while simultaneously thrusting up against me.

My eyes fly open at the contact and I gasp, giving Levi an opening to fully explore my mouth with his tongue. I eventually pull away, giving his lower lip a little bite before I rest my forehead against his. We’re both panting a little, and I reluctantly pull away from him to return to my spot next to Asmo and Belphie.

I sneak a look at Diavolo and Mammon. Diavolo looks extremely displeased and Mammon looks like he wants to murder Levi. Mammon glares at me with something like betrayal on his face. I return his look with a stubborn one of my own.

He doesn’t own me. He can’t even admit that he cares about me.

“Damn.” Belphie smirks at me as I reclaim my seat.

“Ok Satan, your turn,” he calls across the room to his brother.

“Mammon, truth or dare?”

Oh no. That’s the smile that means nothing good is about to happen.

I try to telepathically beg Satan to forget whatever he has planned.

“Truth I guess.” Mammon shrugs.

“How do you really feel about Arianthi?” Satan asks.

Oh no. No no no no no. Belphie and Satan are trying to force Mammon to say how he really feels about me. On one hand, yes, he needs to admit it or quit trying to claim me. On the other hand.......this could be a total disaster.

Every eye in the room is now fixated on Mammon.

“Whaddaya mean?” Mammon scowls.

“It’s pretty obvious that you have a crush on her. Do you want to date her? Will you miss her when the exchange program is over? Or would you want her to stay?”

Mammon shrugs. “What do I care what some stupid human does? She leaves and it’ll be like she was never here. Not like I’d ever date her, I’m THE great Mammon after all. I’m a damn model............. if somebody’s going to be with me they have to look good. I’m one of the lords of the Devildom, why would I settle for some chubby, average looking human?”

Suddenly all the air is sucked out of the room. I can only focus on Mammon. I halfway register Belphie sitting up and Asmo gasping next to me. I can’t breathe. He could have broken one of my bones and it would have hurt less. Suddenly the old chorus of doubts begin running through my mind.

Not good enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, never never never enough.

I’m on my feet before I realize what I’m doing. “I uh, I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.”

I’m faintly aware of Diavolo trying to grasp for my hand before I bolt out of the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom.

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

Solomon looks at Mammon stoically. “You really are the stupidest demon in the entire Devildom.”

“I can’t believe you said that,” Simeon scolds. “That was unnecessarily cruel Mammon.”

The twins glare at him while rage twists Asmo’s delicately pretty features. “You asshole! You complete and total scumbag! If I could set you on fire I would!”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Satan says softly, a guilty look on his face.

“No one blames you,” Lucifer reassures him, while Barbatos and Diavolo nod in agreement.

Levi glances nervously at the door, wondering if he should go after Arianthi.

I don’t want her to hurt herself. I don’t know how she’ll take this. And I’m the only one who really knows........

“Why’s everybody all mad at me?” Mammon asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “I just answered Satan’s damn question.”

Levi snaps. “You know why? Because we all know it was a bullshit answer! We all know you want her but for whatever stupid reason you won’t admit it! She cares about you even though you’d sell her for a fucking Grimm and you bounce back and forth between being jealous and treating her like she’s replaceable! She’s deserves so much more than you. So much fucking more.”

Levi launches himself at Mammon and the room erupts into utter chaos.

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

I open the door to my room as quietly as I can and sigh in relief when I see Luke is still asleep. I pass my hand over the closed door, murmuring the words to the spell that Solomon taught me to ward the door against demons. Only humans and angels can pass through.

I can’t handle seeing the boys or Diavolo right now.

I numbly gather up some clothes as I make my way to my bathroom. Belphie’s sweats. Beel’s t-shirt. Levi’s hoodie.

I drop the clothes on the tile floor and softly click the lock. I lower the robe Asmo gifted me and look at myself in the mirror.

Fat arms. Thick legs with cellulite on my thighs. Love handles.

I pinch at the excess skin and fat on my stomach and feel the oncoming sting of tears.

It’s stupid to be surprised by this. So fucking stupid. Stupid to get your hopes up. Of course he doesn’t care about me. He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

Panic starts to rise as my shoulders tense up and my stomach clenches. I struggle to control my breathing as I remember everything I’ve ate and drank tonight.

Get it out, get it out, get it out. Do better, be better, be worthy. Get it out.

I turn on the shower to drown out any noise and I reach for my toothbrush on the sink. I kneel in front of the toilet as I gag myself. I’m vaguely aware of someone knocking on the door and I think I hear Luke’s voice. I ignore it.

Get it out. Do better. Have more control. Be better. Be worthy.

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

Luke runs out of Arianthi’s room and down the stairs, speeding towards the living room where he can hear raised voices.

“Hey!” He gasps, screeching to a halt just inside the doorway.

He’s momentarily speechless watching the scene unfolding. Mammon has a bloody lip, while Levi has the beginnings of a black eye. Beel restraints Levi and Lucifer holds onto Mammon. Everyone is screaming except for Barbatos and Simeon who are backed into a corner, out of the fray.

“Hey!” Luke shouts. He shrinks back as every gaze in the room turns to him.

Simeon crosses the room to stand next to him. “What’s going on Luke? Is everything ok?”

“I-I woke up in Arianthi’s room and I heard her in the bathroom. I think she’s sick,” Luke answers softly.

Levi’s head snaps up. “What do you mean sick?”

Luke hesitates at the intensity in his voice.

“What do you mean sick!” Levi shouts.

“The shower was on so I couldn’t hear very well but I’m pretty sure she was throwing up. And crying. I knocked on the door but she wouldn’t answer me and it was locked, and I was worried so I came looking for you guys because I didn’t know-”

Levi wrenches away with from Beel with a sudden burst of strength and sprints out of the room, moving towards the stairs. The brothers and Diavolo hesitate for a moment before chasing after him, leaving Luke, Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon behind.

Luke looks at the others, worried and confused. “What’s going on? Is Arianthi going to be ok?”

“I really don’t know,” Simeon whispers.

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spnsmile · 4 years

Text

Happy?

Monday prompt: BET #SpnsStayatHome

@pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @verobatto-angelxhunter

Castiel leaving Dean to babysit Jack for a few hours comes back to find Dean declaring something utterly ridiculous as—

“I’m going to make you happy!”

This after Jack casually praises Dean not only for being a very good hunter but also an expert hustler, baby driver, fisher, the best chef in the Bunker and just about everything Jack also wants to become (though not really a making of a very good role model), still made Dean feel so good about himself which was rare because in the Bunker— between him and his brother— these are all essential stuff they needed under their sleeves and he thinks Cas barely cares about trivial stuff so Dean appreciates the kid’s honesty because kids never lie.

Until the catch when the boy mentions something in lines of, “Except, you can’t make Cas happy,” making Dean’s eyebrows twitch.

“Excuse me? I can’t make Cas…happy? Did Cas tell you this? That I don’t make him happy?”

“No, but he doesn’t need to say anything. He is not happy, that’s—"

“Wait, you’re telling me I can’t make Cas happy?”

“I think you can’t do that.”

“Even if I’m hilarious?” it has gone very serious.

Actually, Jack means the deal with the Empty but Dean still ignorant of context naturally heard it differently. He heard it like a taunt a challenge on his ability. No one ever challenges Dean without the consequences for even doubting le Dean Winchester! Excuse his French, but he can do anything he put his mind into—and just like that when the angel finally returns from his errand as if summoned, Dean studies him very carefully wondering when the last time Cas’ smile muscles were ever used.

“Cas, you ever been happy?”

Castiel freezes like Dean just told him there’s no such thing as profound bond and continues to look like Dean just gutted him when Dean looks him square in the eyes.

“Happy. I am asking if you’ve ever been happy?”

Eyes widening with a frantic look that seems so out of place from a very simple question, Castiel dwindles. He glances at Jack’s direction searchingly before running the tip of his tongue on his chapped lips.

“Um… why?”

“Ah, shit.” Scraping sound of the chair on the floor as it gets pushed back, Dean stands up tall before the angel, dead flicker on his eyes.

“What—why?” Cas looks taken aback when Dean turns his heels and walks away. Exchanging a confused looked with Jack, the angel runs after him. “D-Dean, what?”

“You should have said something.”

“About what?” voice quivers a little but no one pauses to check as they drag the conversation to the corridor, possibly aiming for a door to shut on the angel’s face, but Cas doesn’t wait for that so he pulls Dean’s arm back.

“Dean—”

“You not being happy, alright?” annoyance not equal to the hunter’s troubled handsome face. Castiel quickly steps on Dean’s space in concern.

“I don’t understand. What’s my happiness got to do with you?” again with the quiver on the voice.

Dean rolls his eyes heavenward. “ I’m not supposed to ask if my best friend if he is happy?”

Castiel shakes his head, lost for words, nothing to describe his shock at the turn of events. Dean returns it with guilt realizing how the ocean blues eyes always there when he is in dire need, those blues he considers so precious to behold have never expressed real joy since it’s fall. Just always stormy anger and determination to fulfill tasks after tasks season per season beneath the blues of the sky.

But never joy. Well, one time with that burger… Dammit. But then…

An idea suddenly occurs to Dean.

“Cas, I’ve never been a good friend to you—”

“That’s not—“

“No, hear me out. I really suck, I know—”

“Dean—” reprimanding, not right to say.

“I always make you angry—”

“Um… okay…” a slow take.

“I always get on your bad side—”

“That is true.” Approving this time.

“I annoy you most of the time—”

Castiel just nods not even trying to stop him now.

Dean glares. “Of course, you realize what this means, do you?”

“Um…” Castiel squints, remembering the Bugs Bunny line Dean always repeats when they watch the loony tunes together, “…war?”

“I’m gonna make you happy,” Dean says with relished determination.

Then true apprehension sets in. The angel saw it in his eyes.

Castiel gulps. “Please, don’t.”

Can’t make Cas happy? You wanna bet?

Three days passed since then. The Bunker remained at peace, oblivious to the upcoming storm. Dean was busy in his room while Castiel can only wait in vain. He becomes apprehensive every time Dean walks into the kitchen or the library or in his general vicinity. Except Dean only smiles at him and do absolutely nothing.

It begins with a text.

Dean smiles to himself in the kitchen with Sam drinking his coffee, Jack opposite him when Castiel’s familiar light steps come bounding from the corridor.

“Dean…”

Sam turns to the angel from his laptop, “Hey, Cas—get this—”

“Dean, you sent me a good morning text.” Cas says urgently, following Dean to the stainless kitchen worktable like he’s afraid Dean would vanish from thin air. Dean who’s wearing a gray calico apron on top of his dark green shirt, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and a very charming look on his face when they stand opposite each other with the angel holding his phone like it’s the bible.

Dean leans both hands on the table, smirking. “So?”

“There’s an emoji text… with a heart.” Cas insists like it’s very important that they understand and make it clear. Sam stares up quietly from one to another. Dean only smirks and shrugs like he’s teasing the overly reacting angel from a trivial text.

“There’s more where that came from, you just wait this afternoon, Cas.” Winks the hunter like it’s allowed to look even prettier in the morning with his beautifully shaped lopsided smirk playfully turning up as the angel helplessly stares in his direction.

Castiel’s eyes widen.

Oh, but that’s just the beginning.

“Dean, why are you thinking about me?”

Cas’ says from the other line of the phone with voice deep and sounding uncomfortable to Dean who’s currently driving the impala after a successful hunt for the day. Cas was left to babysit Jack in the Bunker while Dean took care of the ghouls in Minnesota that took about half a day to hunt and another half a day to kill.

Out of the Bunker the entire day, he messages Cas and promptly receives a call from a very stricken angel.

“You said in your message ‘I’m thinking about you’…Do you have any specific reason why you are thinking about me?”

“Nothing really,” Dean hums in satisfaction, “I’m just thinking about you, that’s all.”

Castiel gasps. “T-that’s very nice of you, Dean… umm…I cannot think of why a person would think about another—”

“Why? Aren’t you thinking about me all the time too?”

There’s a sound of something crashing on the floor so it’s either Cas was reading a book or holding a laptop and Dean’s betting it’s the latter so he hopes its Sam’s laptop not his.

Dean smirks again and perhaps just forgot Sam is sitting beside him until his brother clears his throat again with a funny look on his face.

Dean ignores him.

That same week when Castiel and Jack return from grocery shopping, Dean is there waiting for them in the war room table with a beer can in one hand and book on the other. He looks up and warmly greets them ‘Welcome home,’ especially giving Castiel a very long, meaningful look, green eyes speaking volumes of sincerity so Castiel stammers a response. Dean meets him on the bottom of the stairs and without a word, twirls Cas by the shoulder and begins removing his coat—

“D-Dean!?”

“Yeah, it’s summer, what are you doing still wearing this? You’ll get hot. Well, you’re hot—” and no one asks if it’s the current body temperature but Castiel adamantly fights him.

“My vessel does not respond to the weather as with you humans—”

Dean takes it off anyway, grinning at another success. Before Castiel can say anything, Jack stands Dean’s side, shoulders hunching and waiting for his own jacket to be peeled. Dean takes it too with a smirk, then sees Sam watching from the table giving him the same funny expression he had from the kitchen.

“You wanna get your flannel taken off too?” Dean shoots over Sam as he puts the coats on his arms. Sam rolls his eyes but it all didn’t matter because even when Cas seems annoyed when they reached the kitchen, he was smiling at Dean the entire evening with less coat off his shoulder.

And it just goes on and on be it in the Bunker, the Impala, in the middle of the case while they are working as FBI agents, Dean will just light up like fire in the middle of nowhere.

“Hey, Cas.”

“What?”

“Who do you think is my speed dial number 1?”

“Um… I’m guessing it’s no longer Sam?”

Dean laughs out loud before knocking on their prospect’s door with an agent’s grim expression returning on his face in a flick of a finger.

One night when Dean strolls past Sam in the kitchen comes the awaited talk because Sam has been watching them and knows it’s no longer ordinary ‘thing’ he can ignore even when he wished he could because just the other night, Sam caught the two dancing on top of the war room table with dopey smiles on their faces, arms around each other with Dean saying something about having a dream of tap dancing and symbolic lamps—

“Dean, you realize you’re giving Cas the ‘boyfriend treatment’...”

Dean who’s jut taken a can of beer from his stash doesn’t break a sweat shrugging, “You’re still speed dial 1 on my second phone, alright?”

“I—I don’t care! What’s up with you and Cas? Are you guys…?”

Dean leans his hips on the table and shrugs.

“Does it matter if we label it?”

“What?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you wanna hear, Sam, but… did you see how Cas’s been smiling a lot these days? And I just thought… it’s not bad. These simple things I’m doing… not bad at all.”

“Yes, I know, Dean. And it’s good.” Sam puts on the ‘I’m-trying-to-not-butt-in-but-i-think-you-need–to-hear’ look when he clasps both hands. “But don’t you think you’ll be confusing Cas? He told me about this whole thing, about how you were only trying to prove Jack a point. But this is more than a bet, Dean… This is Cas’ happiness… what’ll happen if you suddenly stop?”

Dean suddenly stops just enough to give Sam a serious look like he’s thinking and overthinking stuff once again before his thoughts come into a halt and he lifts his green eyes at his brother bearing something like a revelation lights his face.

He smiles.

“You got it all wrong, Sammy.” Then he was just gone.

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

“Are you happy?”

“Asking me this when you just shoved me on your door…” Castiel says, voice deep and husky inside Dean’s room, behind Dean’s closed door, with Dean upon him inches from his face, both hands

Castiel puts careful hands-on Dean’s chest, pushing him a little. Locking eyes with those beautiful orbs is enough for Castiel to forget why they were there in the first place.

“I think I maybe being selfish here, Cas but… I ….”

Castiel tilts his head.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, Dean?”

“Will this make you happy?”

“I prefer if you do not take this position.”

“What position?” Dean says, breathless, their hips dancing at the friction. Castiel takes Dean’s neck with rough hands and jerks him closer, foreheads bumping. In reality, Castiel is worried. Castiel knows Dean has been trying to make him happy for weeks now. With that kind of determination, it’s only natural Dean finally realizes what Castiel really wants.

“You don’t have to do all of this, Dean. Making me happy… this is too much…”

“You really want me to stop?” Dean says in a husky voice, his mouth already nipping on the angel’s chin sending shivers all over his body.

“I’m just saying you don’t have to do this to prove anything… Just stay by my side.”

“And if I really wanna do it?” the green eyes flash in arousal. Castiel eyes him searchingly, to see if Dean means it, if Dean is ready because Castiel has been waiting for a very long time. But he still fears it, fears the Empty that may just pull him out of nowhere.

“Are you scared, Cas?” Dean suddenly asks, pressing his lips on the angel’s cheeks, “Don’t look so scared… I’m gonna eat you, not leave you, ‘kay? I got you, Cas…”

Their lips crushed and it’s one thing for Dean to groan, another for Castiel to crush his lips on the man. When Dean lands flat on his back on the bed, Castiel as his top, he looks at the human—the man with the very soul he built from hell now ready to be taken apart again and all for him to take—

Dean who trusts him. Dean who loves him.

And Castiel realizes one thing that night when he wreaks havoc on Dean’s bed, while he breaks Dean apart and put him back again, it’s all too clear, realized why he was still in Dean’s arms the entire night, Dean resting on his chest.

Happiness is impossible to attain.

So, when Jack sits by his side munching on his sandwich months later with Castiel and Dean’s relationship out for the world to question yet bearing no real significance to their truth— comes the most important question.

“Cas, are you happy?”

“No, Jack,” Castiel says with eyes twinkling, watching Dean wrestle the Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Dean whose wearing his apron again, against the blue shirt with solid determination to have the overlarge turkey inside his oven. Sam who’s there telling him how to do it. Dean growling, not listening just because.

“I’m not happy… I want to see more.”

Castiel just looks at Dean with pure hunger and longing and maybe yes, also lust. Such a human ‘thing’ he has acquired since living in this world for many years, first unable to grasp it until finally, it’s here, with him, a feeling also afflicting the angel. Of the real truth about happiness. That in a way, you cannot just say ‘enough’.

Not with what they have. Castiel smiles.

Oh, he is happy, but not too happy.

He will never get enough of Dean.

The end. Ao3 #stayathomechallenge

#SPNStayAtHome #destiel ficlet #cas x dean fluff #tooth rotting fluff #Destiel #DEANCAS #dean winchester #destiel domestics #domestics

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renlimotroll · 4 years

Text

Darling, my dreams came true

⚠️ Warning: BL/ Personification/ Imagination/ Out of Character/ Cursing ⚠️

Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with boyxboy.

A/N: I wrote this during ungodly hours, so there might be grammar errors. I’m so stressed with work and this happened. This story was born as I was talking to my friends about my MinSiru imagines and listening to Aimer. Also, this is just my imagination, so please don’t take it seriously.

Enjoy! 🤖🐶

Love, Ren 🌻

Summary: When he’s sleep-deprived, Siruko gets weirdly affectionate, especially towards a certain green head. Everyone knows what’s going on, but of course, Siruko is the last to know about his actions and feelings.

Pairing: 🤖🐶

AU where Bintroll are still youtubers but they live in the same house.

(Story continues below)

It was a great day. The sun was shining warmly outside, and Siruko feels well-rested and refreshed. He stretches then gets up, deciding to check his notifications later and get brunch first. He can smell coffee and something delicious coming from the kitchen. With his luck, Mintosu could be cooking curry and wouldn’t that be the best brunch ever.

He doesn’t know why he felt disappointed that it was Ichihachi cooking, but Ichihachi-kun’s pancakes smells and looks really good so he grabs a plate and forks a piece. Siruko wasn’t aware of the knowing eyes that were watching him carefully as he prepares his coffee. Since Siruko seems to be not fully awake yet without coffee, he didn’t notice how Ichihachi, Quartet, Jiraichan and Hakotaro were side-eyeing each other in a silent communication.

After he had at least drank half of his cup and felt more alert, the purplehead finally noticed the weird atmosphere at the dining table. “What?” He asked. Jiraichan was smirking, Quartet was making weird faces, Ichihachi was looking at everywhere but him, and Hakotaro look so done already even though Siruko doesn’t know for the life of him what he has done to earn that exasperated look on his younger brother. It’s way too early for this. “What?? Shouldn’t I be receiving morning greetings instead of… whatever this is??”

“Well, you certainly have a good morning, don’t you?” Jiraichan raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Chotto, Jiraisan,” Ichihachi warned.

Siruko was bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, Siruko-san! Good morning!” Quartet quipped a little too brightly.

Siruko glared at them suspiciously. “Good.. morning.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake!” Hakotaro shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Niisan, your shirt!”

“Aww there goes our fun.” 🐻

“Way to go Hakotaro.” 🐰

“I wanted to wait and see if Siruko-chan notices it himself.” 🐱

Siruko blinked and followed his younger brother’s words to see.. he was wearing something green. Very green. Something that suspiciously does not belong to him and very particularly belongs to someone else. His face turns bright red like a tomato.

“I-it’s not… I-I’m not… W-we’re not…!” If he could spontaneously combust like a DbD generator with a missed skill check right now, he would. Siruko instantly knew what his friends were thinking and they were wrong!!!… or were they? He’d know if something happened, right? As far as he knows he didn’t really go drinking. He was editing videos and… he does remember Minben-san not letting him drink any more Red Bull, but that was it. He did feel dizzy and queasy yesterday with his migraine, but he didn’t throw up on anyone, right? What the hell happened last night??

Hakotaro rolled his eyes so hard for the second time already even though it’s still early. His older brother was so hopelessly trying to solve what happened that he can practically see equations and formulas appearing from thin air. “Save it Niisan. We all know that–”

“Aaaaah--!” 🐻

“Hakotaro–” 🐰

“Stop–!” 🐱

“When you’re extremely tired, you go to Mintosu-senpai and do… I don’t know what to call that… skinship??” For once, the usually sure-of-himself Hakotaro was at loss for words. “You’re just so affectionate it’s so out-of-character, and you literally have to have some body part of yours touching him! You slump on his back, on his shoulder, on his lap, which, by the way, stopped being funny after the fifth time and just started to become so gross now.”

“F-fifth time??” Siruko definitely did not squeak with a high tone.

Ichihachi cleared his throat. “We stopped counting after the tenth time. And Minben-san always carries you to bed when that happens. He makes a show of complaining about it, but he drops everything he’s doing just to come to your aid.“

“T-t-that..’s n-n-not.. I- uh.. I..”

Jiraichan made sympathetic noises. “If it helps, we’re actually wondering why you can control yourself better when you’re drunk. It only happens when you’re really, really exhausted, like when you’ve stayed up for more than 30 hours.”

“I– what?? S-skinship??”

“You almost punched Quartet-san once because he was trying to make you go to bed and he tried to, and I quote your words, ‘separate Minben-san and I apart!’ ” Ichihachi supplied unhelpfully.

“I– what??” Siruko.exe stopped working and can only ask one-word questions now. It took him a few seconds to process this, and another few to actually believe it. Why are they telling him these... lies?! This can’t be true, right? And why is he only finding out about this now?! Siruko is really starting to re-think considering them his friends, because they’re enjoying this way too much, and they are set on ruining his otherwise perfect morning.

“There goes the bet.” Quartet said nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather.

“BET?? WHAT BET??” Nope, Siruko did not screech. That was a manly scream.

“We guessed you didn’t know you were doing it and we’re right.” Jiraichan explained with a smug smile. “We kinda have a betting pool as to when you’ll realize. Until your dear brother..”

“I’m just sick and tired of this, okay? It’s been a year!” Hakotaro threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Niisan, if you like Minben-san so much then just go confess to him!”

‘W-WHAT??! I-I DON’T–“

“Everybody knows, Siruko-san.” Jiraichan informed him mercilessly, like the psycopath he is. “Us, Hanae-san and the others, even the old lady in the market selling fruits. Everyone.” He put his finger to his lips and looked thoughtful. “Except Minben-san.”

“I–what?” Siruko stammered for the third time.

Hakotaro took pity on his brother, who was doing a perfectly good impression of a Magikarp. “We’re just saying, Niisan, this madness has to stop. You turn into a cuddle monster around Minben-san when you’re exhausted, and the poor man gets a heart attack every time you do. It’s driving all of us crazy, so if you really love your otouto, you’ll get over yourself and confess. Or so help me, I’ll find a locker where I can push the both of you in so you can talk about your feelings!”

“I don’t really do that, do I?” Siruko bit his lip worriedly. He went to the house of the one person in this world who wouldn’t betray him, hoping to get some clarity and possibly some remedy for this whole mess.

“Well…” Gzira look pained to admit it. “Remember when I had to stay overnight last week to help you with Hanachan’s video?”

“Yeah?” Siruko bit his nails nervously.

“You were so tired you were mumbling the theme song of Doraemon.”

“So?? That’s not weird, you know?”

There was an awkward pause, before Gzira resumed. “Backwards… you sang it backwards. It was kinda impressive.” Siruko whined like a child upon hearing that. He’s so close to having a mental breakdown. Why didn’t anyone tell him this? Friends, his ass.

“I was honestly worried and I kept telling you to take a rest, and when I woke up the next day I found out you were still awake. I had no idea what to do, you were so stubborn! So I called Hakotaro over. He said, ‘There’s only one solution to this’ then walked out. When he came back, he brought Minben-san with him.”

“Oh no,” Siruko groaned in despair, feeling his whole face and neck burn with humiliation.

“Yeah. Want me to go on?”

“Ugh.”

“You smiled at him so tenderly and hugged him.”

“No. Stop.” Siruko buried his face in his hands.

“And you called him ‘cuddliest robot ever’. And you practically climbed all over him like a koala. It was so weird I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Like I wasn’t in the right dimension.”

“Mou, Gzira-kun!” Siruko screamed into his hands. So much for the peace of mind he was hoping for.

“Then he carried you to your bedroom. I don’t know what was weirder, you reverse piggybacking him like a beetle on a tree, or Minben-san actually letting you do that.”

Siruko sulked. No way this happened. Although, there was something he was curious about. “What.. what did he…“ he asked, knowing that Gzira would get his message.

“Okay, don’t freak out, but he did look fond. Like, he liked carrying you to bed. I don’t even think he noticed Hakotaro and I standing awkwardly at the side because he was just looking after you. He even patted your hair. He practically melted when you started nosing his neck.. eww by the way.” Gzira made a face, remembering the scene which seemed so domestic.

“Umm…” Siruko could not believe what he was hearing. He… he did that? And Minben-san… did that?

Gzira continued. “Weirdest experience ever. Hakotaro said it was a regular thing. I got surprised when he said that the only person who could convince you to go to bed when you’re past the 30-hour mark was Minben-san. He even included me on the betting pool.”

“I hate you.” Siruko crossed his arm grumpily.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” He sighed in defeat.

“Look, why don’t you just tell him how you feel? It’s been a year, don’t you think you’ve been harboring these feelings for a long time?”

Siruko can’t even begin to imagine the horror. “No way! Minben-san… he’d never like me that way!”

“Why not?” Gzira challenged.

“You know! I’m just a regular guy! I’m not even good at anything! There’s no reason for him to like me!”

“Siruko-san…” Gzira scolded his friend tenderly. “Stop belittling yourself! You’re the smartest, kindest person I know–okay, well maybe Sensei is that too–but you’re a pretty neat person! Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

“You’re just saying that coz you’re my friend.” The purplehead pursed his lower lip out.

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true. And as your friend, I want you to stop overthinking things and just, just try to tell him what you feel, okay?”

“What… what if he rejects me?” Siruko whispered sadly.

Gzira sighed internally. He loves his friends, but sometimes they’re just… too dense. He just wished this pining would stop so they can all be happy. “You guys are so perfect for each other, you’re both oblivious idiots. Just trust me on this. Minben-san’s got it just as bad for you as you for him.”

Siruko wished he could believe him, but he just can’t. Dreams are just that… dreams. Like fairy tales are fairy tales. There’s no way that Mintosu would fall for him, and even though that thought hurts, it’s the reality. Mintosu liking him was just… a fantasy after all.

Yes, everybody was wrong. Siruko grumpily mashed his keyboard, trying to clear the level on the game he was playing and failing miserably. His character kept on dying, and it’s frustrating. Once his character got stuck somewhere between two walls, he decided to give up and shut down his computer. He stared at the black screen reflecting himself.

There’s no way Minben-san would like him. Look at him. There are big dark circles under his eyes, his hair was always messy, and he’s thin as a tooth pick. He doesn’t go out of his room that much, he’s not even that good in games, and the only thing he’s good at is maybe memory games. That’s so lame, right? Unlike Mintosu’s friend, what was his name again? Akoroshi. Now that is a talented guy. Knows English, good at singing, really good at games. It’s just impossible. That’s why he never confessed. He couldn’t even begin to compare with that guy. And what if Mintosu rejects him? Then the friendship he tried so hard to treasure will be gone, it will be awkward as hell since they are all practically homesharing, and maybe he’ll lose the only connection he has with Mintosu. So no way. He’d never confess.

It was a bit hard to avoid Mintosu because you know, housesharing, but Siruko feels like he’d done a pretty good job. He thinks he’s done really well in monitoring if he’s reaching 30 hours of no sleep or managing his exhaustion levels so that no embarrassing thing could ever happen again. He had to vigilantly avoid doing things that was second nature before, like falling asleep on Minben-san’s shoulder during movie night or hitting each other’s knees while playing Mario Kart, because they were just friends! Only friends! It was probably awkward for Minben-san to help not carry him to bed, and maybe the guy was doing it out of some friendly obligation or guilt, and Siruko never wants to put anyone in a situation like that where one forces his friends to do something for him. He keeps his distance now, toning down his actions to just behind the friendship lines, and plasters a smile on his face while pretending he doesn’t see the confused, slightly hurt looks Mintosu was showing as he avoids him.

It was almost successful and he could probably live like this for the rest of his life (hiding his pain) until his so-called beloved friends, his family even, corners him in the kitchen, the place where it all started. Siruko should seriously consider finding his own place to live.

“You’re being very ridiculous right now Siruko-san, and I don’t have much patience for ridiculousness.” Jiraichan says in a tone that means he’s about to pull out knives from his jacket. Very pointy knives that he likes using. “It’s bad enough the bet was cancelled. That was the only thing keeping me from locking you two in a vault and welding the bolt shut so you two can finally make out.” Siruko flushed red when the images came to mind, but shook his head. It was just a stupid fantasy, it didn’t make his heart clench painfully at all. Nope.

Quartetchi followed up immediately. “Sorry Siruko-san. It was fun when there was a bet in place, but now it’s just annoying. You two are the biggest pair of dense idiots in the world.”

“Look Niisan, before, you and Minben-san just irritated me when you both flirted with–”

“We do not–!!” The older brother interrupted indignantly.

“Yes you do!” Hakotaro almost raised his tone in frustration. “You bicker like an old married couple, and as much as it irritated me to see my Niisan and my senpai flirting but not even knowing they do, now it feels like whatever sanity I still had has just gone and you both are being so… so… gaaah!”

“What Hakotaro means to say is,” Ichihachi tried in a gentle tone, “you guys are playing the biggest game of chicken in the world. It was fun when we could tease you both about it and make money out of your hopeless romantic-ness, but now that we can’t, we need you to get your heads out of your asses and do something about it or we will.” He threatened calmly.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about!” Siruko raised his arms wildly in desperation, his voice breaking. Why can’t his friends just leave him and his misery alone? “Minben-san and I are just friends! What do you want me to do?!?!”

“Oh my god Siruko-san!” Quartetchi complained. “If I didn’t love you as a friend I’d bash your head in that marble sink! How can you be this dense? Aniki’s been walking around with this sour, grumpy face like someone set his PC on fire, and you’re acting like a hurt puppy! A hurt, cruelly-kicked puppy! This has to stop!”

“Mintosu-san LIKES you, Niisan!” Hakotaro emphasized on the like. “How could you miss that? How do you not see--”

“He doesn’t!” Siruko crossed his arms stubbornly. “He’d never! Why would he–”

“If you finish that self-depreciating sentence, I will take out my mines and let you explode right there!” Jiraichan narrowed his eyes. Siruko gulped.

“Okay, that’s it! I’m done. Guys help me.” Quartet suddenly hauled Siruko’s arms up, and Ichihachi grabbed both his feet and lifted it up. The Bintroll leader yelped in surprise and tried to struggle, but Jiraichan and Hakotaro glared at him with that ‘If looks can kill’ face, and he can’t really do anything, not unless he wants to drop like a sack of potatoes to the floor painfully. Jeez, the grips of these two are so tight!

They dragged him upstairs to Mintosu’s room, where he was streaming APEX. Jiraichan opened the door with a bang so loud Mintosu jumped from his seat and hit his knee on the table. Hakotaro grimaced internally, that looked painful. Mintosu let out a string of profanities that shocked his viewers.

“What the fuck’s goin on??!”

The viewers were all alarmed and the comments flew so fast in the chat stream, all wondering what happened to their favorite green robot gamer. Bloodhound died, and Mintosu had to return to the main screen. Suddenly, a purple blob was dumped into his lap and a scream of pain was heard. Mintosu winced and turned off the mic.

“What the fuck guys?! I told you not to come in when I’m–” oh. Siruko-san. Siruko-san was on his lap, grimacing in pain at being dumped unceremoniously. Mintosu’s brain short-circuited and he could only blink.

“Minben-san, my Niisan likes you. A lot. And we know you like him too. I know you think you’re being subtle when you think Niisan’s not watching, but we’re not idiots like him. We know. Everyone does.”

“I- what…” Mintosu unknowingly echoed Siruko’s words from before.

“Just kiss already you idiots!!” Jiraichan yelled with his high-pitched voice. For all his size, he’s really scary when he’s angry. “C'mon guys, let’s go!” The pink fairy stomped angrily and headed out, while the others followed suit. At least Quartet and Ichihachi had the decency to apologize. Siruko thinks he needs to find new friends, they’re so rude!

Before Hakotaro closed the door, he glared daggers at Mintosu, “Look, I can’t say I like the idea of you making out with Niisan, but you make him happy, so please keep doing so. If you ever hurt my Niisan, I know Limone-sensei and everybody else will help me bury your body where no one can find it.” Mintosu nodded, believing the younger one will totally do that. Siruko flushed red upon hearing his brother’s shovel talk.

"I’m really happy if you guys finally get together, but please remember to get your hands off of each other and keep the PDA to a minimum, at least when I’m around.” And with that, the blonde closed the door. The silence that followed was really uncomfortable, and Siruko prays, Ground, swallow me up!!, wondering if it was possible to die out of humiliation.

“So… umm…” Min-san sees the flow of comments asking where he is out of his peripheral view, but he couldn’t care less, not when the person he’s been crushing on for a long time is blushing so hard on his lap right now, and he looks really adorable. Mintosu had wanted this. For so long. If this is a prank, he’s going to kill those guys. But he wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, he has a chance.

Siruko stubbornly refuses to look at him out of embarrassment, and Mintosu just rolls his eyes, even though he’s flustered too. Whatever, he thinks, because he’s never going to let Siruko go after hearing that. He rearranges him in a more comfortable position and mutters, “Okay, before I start the stream again, I’m gonna get this out. I like you, so fucking much, so after this we’ll talk and maybe get some food. Now, stay still and stay quiet.” Mintosu shakes his head to rid of his jitters, places his fingers on the keyboard and mouse, and turns his mic on. “Sorry bout that minnasan, there was a little bit of a commotion, just the bintroll guys messing around, but everything’s fine now. Really fine!! In fact, I’m feeling so good today, I might even get diamond today! Watch out! Hahahaha!” And the fight is on.

Once or twice, Siruko tries to wriggle his way out, but frankly Mintosu feels very warm around him, and being encased around his arms just makes him feel all sorts of giddy and calm at the same time. Mintosu just growls softly when Siruko tries to move so he gives up and watches his.. wait–are they boyfriends now?– maneuver Bloodhound perfectly and get a few kills. This is so embarrassing but at the same time, it’s all he ever wanted. He’s so happy he could just burst. Part of him wonders if he’s dreaming, but that dump was really painful so this must be real. Mintosu rests his chin on his shoulder, and any disbelief of reality he has disappears quickly, because that weight on his shoulder can’t be fake. Soon Siruko feels very sleepy and warm, and even though his heart still feels like it will burst out of his chest, maybe, just maybe, he can start to believe that Mintosu actually likes him back. Mintosu is actually warm and surprisingly comfortable even though he’s talking gibberish and laughing loudly in his ear, and Siruko starts to nod off against the gamer’s chest a few times. He doesn’t understand why he feels sleepy, but he can just always blame Minben-san later.

He blinks blearily when Minben-san carefully slots him into his bed, and the green guy turns off the lights and covers them with his blankets. It smells like detergent and Mintosu and home, and this isn’t the situation he had always imagined being on Minben-san’s bed, but it’s not that bad especially when Minben-san pulls him in and drapes his arms over him for a cuddle. Minben-san without his glasses always makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter, especially now that they’re so close he can practically feel Minben-san’s warm breath and heart beating loudly in his chest. The thought that Mintosu also feels whatever he is feeling is strange but comforting.

“Minben-san,” he whispers, so as to not disturb the electric peace in the atmosphere of the room, “they said we’re idiots.”

Mintosu chuckles and Siruko really likes it when he does that. “Maybe we are. Is that why Sensei keeps telling us that?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s because we’re idiots in another sense.”

“Tashikani.”

“So… you’re not into… Akoroshi-san?”

“What? No way! Yuck! I’ve never been interested in him that way! He’s just my best friend, that’s all.” Mintosu pauses. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Mmmmmm, maybe...?” Siruko sheepishly mumbles.

“Idiot.” He flicks Siruko’s forehead, resulting into the purplehead pouting cutely. Mintosu thinks he wants to kiss him, but he’s also content with this right now. “It’s you I like. A lot.”

“Why?” Siruko sounded so unsure and lost. Mintosu hates that. He knows that the purplehead tends to be insecure sometimes, which is absolutely absurd. If he could only see that everyone loves him, he would never second-guess himself.

“I just do. Honestly, why wouldn’t anyone? You’re amazing and everything. If anything, I thought you wouldn’t like me.”

Siruko starts to chuckle and Mintosu joins him. “Okay, maybe we really are idiots.”

“Right.”

“And for your information, I like you too. A lot. Actually, maybe I love you.”

Mintosu snorts. “Okay, then ‘maybe’ I love you too.“ Siruko smiles sleepily at that, and Mintosu’s heart skips a beat or two. “You know, you actually told me these a few times before, but I thought you were just being delirious or maybe hallucinating. You’re an idiot who really needs to sleep more.”

“As if you do! You’re just as bad as me, maybe even more!” Siruko wrinkles his nose angrily, and Mintosu thinks cute. “But.. really? I said that? That’s… embarrassing! Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna take anything your sleep-deprived brain says seriously. Once, you talked about giant ducks and how they’d take over the world one day. You mumble so many weird things, you idiot.”

That… was definitely weird. He can’t really blame his friends for staying away from crazy, sleepy him.

“Plus, well, maybe I like sleepy, idiotic Siruko-san.”

Pink dusted his cheeks. He can’t believe that Minben-san really put up with all of that craziness, but it did lead to this now, and Siruko decides to just stop doubting everything and take whatever happiness he can get. “Whatever. Sleepy Siruko likes you too, so shut up.”

Mintosu huffs, but his fingers run through his purple hair, and that feels really good. Siruko really wants to savour this moment, but his eyes are getting droopy and he doesn’t think he can keep them open.

“Sleep.” Mintosu orders softly.

“Hmmm…” Siruko answers sleepily. “Good night Minben-san.”

Well, what do you know, dreams do come true after all.

It was a great day. The sun was shining warmly outside, and Siruko feels well-rested and refreshed. Mintosu was cooking curry while he was preparing the coffee pot. Nothing really changed after last night, they still bicker a lot and tease each other to death, but this time, there are more leaning-to-each-other and maybe more skinship between them. It was a good morning. The four other Bintroll members were watching the strange love-hate interaction with fond but exasperated eyes.

“Anyone wanna have a bet? I’m betting six months before their first kiss.” 🐻

“C'mon, give them a little credit.” 🐰

“They wouldn’t have made it if Hakotaro didn’t interfere.” 🐱

“Yeah, and I would have won the bet.” 🐻

“No, you wouldn’t!!” 🐰

“Hmm… my bet is a week.” 🐱

“Uh, no way Ichihachi! It took them a year to tell each other that they like each other–actually no, without our help, it would have taken more than a decade! You really think they would kiss in a week?” 🐰

“Yeah! Just place your own bet!” 🐱

“But–” 🐰

Hakotaro drowned them out. Sometimes it’s really tough being the only sane member of this household, but this is family, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s happy as long as everyone is happy, even though everyone is an idiot.

“Finally.” He sighs to himself, seeing his brother and his senpai smiling, and moves to break up the ongoing fight between a kiss that’s really not their business.

It was just a normal brunch in the Bintroll household, but everyone is laughing, and this is happiness. Siruko really appreciates this second family he has, and if he moves to hold Minben-san’s hand under the table, well, sue his boldness.

“Ne~ aishiteru~” he says in his heart.

[A/N: I hope you guys like it! It’s been a year since I last wrote a story and my skills are a bit rusty haha. Also, it’s my first time posting a story on tumblr! It was fun coding but also so frustrating! My good friend cm made the pic! Thanks cm! Visit me on Twitter! Anyway, have a nice day! Panyanyanda!]

🌻

Owari~

#Bintroll #MinSiru #Mintosu #Siruko #bintrollfanfic

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kl4us4 · 4 years

Text

CHURCHYARD (Klaus Hargreeves x Female!Reader)

Summary: Klaus communicates with Spirits. You communicate with Angels.

ua masterlist

general masterlist

warning: angsty af, swearing, kinda sad.

You sit beside Klaus, leaning your head against his shoulder as you watch Five serve himself a cup of black coffee. The day is bright and young, and though you had a grand rest, Klaus hadn’t. He never sleeps, that much you’re convinced of.

Klaus nudges his shoulder, giving you a forced smile as you turn to look at him. “You okay?” You wonder, examining his expression. He looks annoyed, uncomfortable.

“I feel... suffocated.” He states curtly, sending a painful ache to your chest.

“Oh. Sorry.” You’re not sure what he means but you scoot your chair away from him, frowning down.

Five shoots a look between the two of you before turning the attention elsewhere. “This coffee tastes like shit.” The boy frowns, yet he takes another sip before placing it down onto the table.

“It’s Brazilian coffee,” Klaus responds, resting a hand onto his temple as he begins rubbing it, “It’s imported.”

“Well,” Five pours the coffee into the sink, before he leaves and calls out, “Brazilian coffee is shit!”

Chuckling to yourself, you rest your hand against Klaus’ thigh. He flinched slightly. “How are you doing?” You ask him, noticing the pain evident on his face, “I know you didn’t sleep much last night-”

“How do you think I’m doing?” He shoots back sarcastically, rising from his seat with his head still in his hands.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You wonder, voice quieter now in fear of being shut down again. You stand to follow him. He paces up the stairs and you frown, “Klaus, I’m trying to help-”

“Help?” He repeats, the inklings of a smile on his lips, “You want to help? Oh, that’s lovely, Y/N!” You look down at your feet as he walks down a step on the stairs, towering over you slightly. Klaus’ black stained eyes stare into yours. “Can you talk to your buddies up there?”

Your face falls, “Klaus, I-”

“Let them know they’re assholes,” he spits, pointing heavenward, “How is it that you get to speak to them while I get stuck with tormented dead people? Huh?”

“We don't choose the hand we get dealt,” you tell him, frowning as you clench your first by your side, “I didn’t ask for any of this. Why are you mad at me for something I can’t control?”

“I’m not mad at you!”

“Yes, you are! You’re yelling at me!”

“I’m just...”

“What?”

“I’m tired!” Klaus exclaims, pressing his hands onto his eyes as he sighs, “I’m tired, okay?! I want to sleep.” Klaus sighs, sitting down on the staircase, defeated, “I just want peace. I want the peace that you get to feel every day! Every night... and I want to be free of this torment.” He admits, keeping his eyes closed and trying to ignore the noise that comes with being two days sober. You reach for his hand, wishing that he didn’t tear himself away from you. “Don’t start.”

“With what?”

“With that angelic bullshit you always give me.” He finishes, standing from the staircase. Angelic bullshit? Your eyes widen slightly and your lips part... he always does this. He always makes you feel stupid about your powers. You can talk to higher beings, angels, whatever they’re called, they give you guidance, they help you see future events sometimes. They’ve been there for you more times than your own boyfriend has.

“I... I wasn’t going to,” you admit, slowly rising from kneeling on the staircase, “I should go. You clearly need to be left alone.”

“Good, you got the hint,” Klaus replies, his back already turned as he ascends the stairs, “Finally.”

With one last look at the figure walking away from you, you rush to the door half expecting Klaus to shout your name and apologise. But he doesn’t. Not this time. Usually, your fights start and end with Klaus’ words.

“Y/N,” comes a voice from beside you. You turn, seeing Diego and you quickly wipe the tears from under your eyes, “He doesn’t mean it, I’m sure he’s just in a bad mood.”

“Yeah,” you nod, barely looking at Diego, “I tell myself that every time.” Turning to exit, you pause before looking back at Diego, “You know what? I don’t think love is enough for Klaus... something inside of him won’t accept it. The same part that won’t accept help or that shuns out anyone who cares for him even a little bit. He takes it and he tears all the love in him apart,” you look up at the staircase, seeing Klaus stand there watching you speak of him. Your eyes never leave his, even when you begin tearing up again, “And I’m sick of being talked down to just for loving him.”

The fresh morning air does nothing to clear your mind. You sit at a park, watching people pass by, some holding hands with one another, some walking their dog, some young children with their grandparents eating icecream. A familiar man sits beside you.

“Gabriel,” you greet him, not turning to face the being.

“You know that is not my name,” his voice is deep and calm.

“You have no name,” you remind him, “So I gave you one. Are you here to bring me a vision about the future of the Hargreeves?” You wonder, know there are big things they have yet to face; bigger things than their long lost sibling coming back from the future.

Gabriel shakes his head, his hands resting in his lap. “No, Y/N.”

“Then what is it?” You turn to him, gazing at him. He watches the park goers silently before turning to look back at you.

“I sensed that you needed guidance.”

You remain silent for a second, looking away and at the scenery, “Tell me, how do people know what is hurt and what is love?”

“You need help distinguishing the two?”

You nod... but you also shrug, “He... he acts like he hates me. He says things that will drive me away, things he knows will hurt me. I’m not sure if I’ve just convinced myself that he doesn’t truly mean any of it.”

“Humans tend to push away the care and love that they do not feel worthy of.” He responds, “It’s possible that being two days sober, and so eager to fall back into his addiction, he’s pushing away the one thing keeping him on the right path.”

You think it over. “Maybe.”

“Does he love you more than he wants to hurt you?”

“I guess not,” you admit, staring at the shadows cast by the sun shining through the tall trees.

“Why do you think that is?”

“I think he likes feeling wanted, sometimes,” you admit, knowing how loving he is when you come back to him, “someone else having faith in him restores whatever faith he lacks in himself. But I also know he’s filled with fear.”

“Fear is difficult to overcome. Do you know what he is afraid of?”

“Being left alone. Losing someone.” You list it, “Klaus doesn’t know if he wants someone to love or someone to take care of him. I think he’s confused the two somehow... he’s loving and kind, but he hates having to live up to that. He’s scared of reciprocating my feelings... my care, for him.”

“Klaus Hargreeves is a complex character.” Gabriel nods, “He’s conflicted. He’s envious, at night he’s restless to sleep because of his powers,” you look to Gabriel, “He’s suffering.”

“I suppose you can’t change that.” You state.

“No. No, I cannot,” Gabriel glances at you, he takes a breath, “I don’t suppose you’re upset at me for that?”

You shrug, “No,” you admit, “It’s not your place, I guess. No one gets to choose the life they’re born into.”

“Indeed.” He repeats, “Do you believe you can live life without the Hargreeves? Knowing what you know about their future.”

You shake your head, looking off to the side, “Their future is my future. And my past is theirs. We may not all see eye to eye, but we will forever be bonded by having begun our journey together in the Umbrella Academy.”

“That is a good way of viewing things,” Gabriel hums, “I must advise you, I sense a change in the winds, Y/N.”

“A good change?”

“It depends on how you overcome it, but it is a change nevertheless.” He states, his hands clasped and resting on his lap, “I bid you good luck in the next coming days. Your decision to stay close to the Hargreeves is wise. They need you.”

“They need me?”

“Indeed.” He nods, affirming, “I cannot tell you any more. Beyond the next two weeks is uncertain. Stay close to those who feel left out, forgotten, especially in this time of need. Reginald Hargreeves has passed on and leaves a legacy of neglect in his wake.” Turning to look at you, Gabriel leaves one of his pointed hints to aid you and give you guidance, “Keep an eye out for those who feel his neglect the most.”

You nod before looking down at your feet, the sound of fluttering wings signals his departure. All you can do is let out a long sigh as you continue watching the people live their lives around you.

#Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #klaus #klaus hargreeves #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader fluff

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sesamestreep · 4 years

Text

stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 4)

(Read on AO3)

(start from the beginning)

SUMMARY: Jyn gets some much needed tough love from the band. She also gets soup.

A/N: Here’s a shorter chapter to break up the other, more dramatic chapters. A palate cleanser, if you will. An amuse bouche, if I may. Fewer warnings needed on this one, I feel like, since it’s mostly about the power of friendship, but there’s still some talk of pregnancy and abortion here as well. Follow the AO3 link for more detailed tags. If you’ve liked/commented/kudos-ed/reblogged anything from this series so far, I really appreciate it and I wish I could make you all some soup because you deserve it.

“So,” Chirrut says, clapping his hands together and officially bringing their meeting to order, “how has everyone’s week been so far?”

As Jyn expected, Baze and Bodhi immediately turn their attention to her, since they clearly all discussed this beforehand and planned to gang up on her.

“I hate all of you,” she says, picking up Baze and Chirrut’s cat from the floor where she’s been weaving between everyone’s ankles and dropping her onto her lap. The cat immediately curls up over Jyn’s stomach, despite the fact that she’s not visibly pregnant at all, and Baze hums thoughtfully, which makes Jyn scowl. “Shut up,” she adds, without much heat.

“I didn’t say anything,” Baze says with an exaggerated shrug.

“I can hear what you’re thinking.”

“You’re starting to sound like him,” he replies, cocking his head towards Chirrut, who smiles broadly in response.

“We’re anxious to know how you’re doing,” Chirrut says.

“Oh, I’m sure Bodhi’s already told you everything,” Jyn says, shooting a glare in Bodhi’s direction.

“I’ve told them everything I know,” he replies easily. “Which is not the same as, well, everything .”

“I told you how my conversation with Cassian went, which is what I assume you all care about, so you should be caught up.”

“Okay, first of all, that was like...four days ago,” Bodhi says, counting off on his fingers. “And secondly, I asked how your conversation with Cassian went and you said ‘fine’ and then ignored my texts for two days!”

“Well, I—”

“And thirdly , that is not ‘all we care about’! We love you, we want to know how you’re doing!”

Jyn flings her head back on the couch petulantly, only giving up on her sulk when she feels Baze’s hand on her shoulder. He gives it a gentle squeeze, but when she turns towards him, he’s giving her a stern look.

“He’s right, you know,” he says, solemnly.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, sitting up and mildly annoying the cat that’s still curled in her lap. She scratches her behind the ears to make up for it. “What do you want to know?”

“How are you feeling?” Chirrut asks.

“Fine,” Jyn answers with a shrug, and then sees Bodhi’s unimpressed look and decides to elaborate. “I’ve been a little moody, I guess.”

“No, he means since you’ve been pregnant,” Bodhi says, laughing, and Jyn swats him.

“Asshole,” she replies, but there’s no heat to it. “I’ve been moodier . How’s that?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Jyn hums, considering what else to add. “I haven’t had much of an appetite. Also, I've been sleeping like crap, but that’s probably stress over the appointment.”

“That’s Friday, right?” Baze asks, before taking a sip of his tea.

She nods. “Bodhi’s going with me, so no one has to worry.”

“We’ll worry anyway, just to be safe,” Chirrut says cheerfully, which makes Baze hide his smile in his mug. “How did Cassian take the news?”

“Why don’t you ask Bodhi?” Jyn says with an eye roll. “He’s the one who told him.”

Bodhi scowls at that. “In my defense, he came back to our apartment from dinner with you looking thoughtful, and I knew you’d been trying to tell him, so I just assumed he already knew! How was I supposed to know you chickened out and abandoned him at the restaurant?”

Jyn thinks about swatting at him again, but she’s fairly certain that Baze and Chirrut’s cat would not take it too kindly if she jostles her one more time.

“You left him at the restaurant?” Baze asks, alarmed.

“No, I—okay, so, technically, I did, but it was…it's complicated!” When that doesn’t seem to pacify anyone, she adds, “he was being cute to a baby at the next table and I freaked out and left, okay? Bodhi still shouldn’t have told him.”

“I thought he knew already,” Bodhi cries. “You didn’t see his face! He looked very confused! I was trying to offer my support!”

“That’s just Cassian’s face!”

“Maybe around you, it is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Bodhi looks heavenward for a moment, as if praying for the patience to deal with her. “I just mean that...I think maybe Cassian doesn’t know how to read you. Not the way we do.”

Jyn looks around at the others, whose facial expressions give away nothing, except that they’re listening intently. “Well,” she says, “that makes sense, I guess. He doesn’t know me as well as you do.”

“No,” Baze says, carefully. “But I think he’d like to.”

She can’t do anything in response to that except blink at him in confusion. “What?” She finally asks, after what feels like several minutes.

“I think he likes you, Jyn,” Bodhi says, far too gently. “I think he was really happy you asked him to dinner the other night and he was disappointed when you left without explaining.”

“He knows now,” she interjects. “I explained what happened when he came over later.”

“I know, I just think...he wanted you to call him for another reason.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” Jyn says, petulantly. “It’s not like I wanted to be pregnant.”

“That’s not really what I meant,” Bodhi says, and his tone is lightly chiding, which just makes her pout more. “I meant that I was a little surprised he came home from your place at all that night.”

“What, did you think I was gonna axe murder him?”

He frowns at her. “No, dummy, I thought he was going to tell you how he felt!”

“‘How he felt’??” Jyn repeats. “What does that mean?”

“I give up,” Bodhi says, throwing his hands up.

“I just don’t understand!”

“Listen,” Chirrut says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “We know it’s been a rough few months for you. The breakup was terrible and with Saw’s health getting worse and now being pregnant, this can’t be an easy situation for you to deal with. But surely, even with all of that going on, you must see that Cassian has feelings for you.”

Jyn laughs before she can’t stop herself, but no one else joins her. They don’t even crack a smile, they just keep looking at her with concern. “That’s not true,” she says, with more confidence than she feels. “Don’t joke about that.”

“He’s not joking,” Baze says. “It’s true.”

“Cassian told you that?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s obvious from the way he looks at you.”

“And from the way he talks about you,” Bodhi adds. “He’s seriously asked about you a hundred times this week alone.”

“Well, that’s because he’s worried,” Jyn says. “Because I’m pregnant and he feels bad. Not because he likes me. And if he looks at me in any sort of special way, it’s because he feels bad for me. Because of the breakup and everything.”

“Oh, I get it,” Bodhi says, nodding in a way that feels sarcastic somehow. “He only had sex with you out of pity.”

“Yeah,” she replies, half heartedly. “That’s gotta be it.”

“Bullshit,” he fires back. “He’s had a thing for you since he met you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jyn practically shouts. “I—I had a boyfriend when he met me.”

That remark earns her an eye roll. “Yeah, and no one’s ever had a thing for someone they couldn’t have before.”

“So, what? You think he was just waiting around for me and Reece to break up so he could have a shot with me?”

“Of course not! But I don’t think he was miserable to hear that it had finally happened.”

“If he was so excited for me to be single, why did I have to make the first move? Why didn’t he call me afterwards? Why didn’t he say anything about wanting to date me at any point in the last few months?”

The guys are quiet once she’s finished, but not in a way that makes her feel like she’s stumped them. Rather, it feels like they can’t decide who’s going to tell her she’s wrong first.

“Like we said,” Chirrut finally pipes up, “he doesn’t know you as well as we do. Maybe he doubts your feelings for him.”

“My feelings?” Jyn asks, flabbergasted. “For him? I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Jyn,” Bodhi says, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t have slept with him in the first place if you didn’t have feelings for him.”

“I know this is hard for you to believe, since you’re some sort of Disney prince when it comes to relationships, but sometimes people just have sex because they’re horny and they feel like it,” she snaps.

He has the audacity to shrug in response. “Sure, but that’s not why you did it.”

“Oh, right! Because you know how I feel better than I do! How could I have forgotten?”

“Normally, I would never presume to tell someone else how they feel,” Bodhi says, putting his hand to his heart and everything, “but, in this one particular case, and just because you’re so terrible with emotions, I’m telling you: you like him too. Trust me.”

“I am not terrible with emotions,” she scoffs.

“Well…you’re not great with them either,” Chirrut says, with a shrug.

“Okay, fine! Let’s say you’re all right; I do have feelings for Cassian. What good does it do me? I already slept with him, made him feel like a rebound, didn’t call him for two months afterwards, and then bulldozed my way back into his life by telling him I’m pregnant. What sort of guy would still be interested in me after all that?”

“Cassian would,” Bodhi says simply, as if she’s the dumbest human being in the universe. “As long as it’s you, he’ll still be interested.”

Jyn closes her eyes, because now would be a stupid time to cry, especially since she’s trying to convince them she doesn’t care about Cassian and crying over someone is a textbook example of caring about them. She can’t even think about what they’re saying, because she isn’t allowed to think about Cassian like that. She’s attracted to him, sure, but sleeping with him was supposed to get it out of her system. And it should have. The only reason sleeping with him wouldn’t have helped is if they’re right and she does actually have feelings for him. And that would really suck, because there’s absolutely no way he feels the same way about her; not after everything she’s put him through.

“If I agree to take everything you’ve said tonight under advisement,” Jyn says carefully, without opening her eyes, “can we please talk about something else right now?”

Baze puts his hand on her shoulder again, which makes her look over at him. “Of course,” he says, and she smiles at him weakly in response.

An hour or so later, she and Bodhi shuffle out of Baze and Chirrut’s apartment to head home for the night, without so much as a moment’s rehearsal on anyone’s part, despite that being the actual reason they supposedly got together tonight. Once they’re out in the night air, Bodhi claps his mittened hands together to ward off the cold and they head for the subway together.

“I can’t believe those bozos made me soup,” Jyn says, perching her chin on the top of the tupperware that Baze had shoved into her hands before she left, on the grounds that she wouldn’t want to make dinner for herself on Friday after her appointment and so he and Chirrut had made something for her to take home so she wouldn’t starve. It had been another close call for her almost crying.

“Well, they love you,” Bodhi says, slightly muffled because he’s buried his chin in his scarf. “And so do I. We just want you to be happy.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little hard on you earlier.”

Jyn wants to wave his apology away, but she’s a little worried about dropping the container she’s holding, so she just shakes her head instead. “You weren’t.”

Bodhi looks down at his feet as he walks. “I was, a little. I just get so frustrated when you talk like you don’t deserve nice things.”

“I never said that.”

“Not directly, but,” he pauses, clearly searching for the right words, “I watched the way things ended with you and Reece, and you were mad at him, sure, but a lot of the time, the way you talked, it was like you were mad at yourself. Like, you thought you deserved what he did to you, and if you’d been a better girlfriend or a better person, you could have stopped it from happening. And that’s bullshit.”

Jyn stops short, right there on the sidewalk. “I don’t think that,” she says, but it’s a faint protest. She knows she’s had that thought before, more than once, and she’s sure she got drunk enough at some point to even say it to Bodhi.

Luckily for her, he doesn’t cite his sources with a drunken text from her or anything like that. He just looks at her, with obvious concern, and says, “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right. Someone who’s never going to make you doubt how they feel.”

“And you think Cassian is that person for me?” she asks, trying to sound incredulous.

“I don’t know,” Bodhi says, shrugging helplessly. “But you don’t know either, and you won’t ever know unless you give him a chance.”

Jyn starts walking again while she processes that and he follows her lead. When he’s caught up with her, she moves in close to elbow him in the ribs.

“Being in love with Taidu has really made you into a hopeless romantic,” she teases.

“I’ve always been a hopeless romantic,” he grumbles, making her laugh. “But now I speak from experience.”

She smiles at that, holding her tupperware of soup close to her chest. “What you said before,” she says, quietly, “were you serious? Cassian really asks about me?”

“All the time,” Bodhi says, smiling. “He knows I was meeting you tonight, so I bet he’ll ask about you within the first five minutes I’m home.”

Jyn rolls her eyes at that, but the idea of it thrills her, making her cheeks warm even in the cold night air. “I’m sure he won’t,” she says, faintly, because there’s a foolish part of her that really wants Bodhi to be right.

“I’m serious,” he replies. “I’d put money on it.”

“Well, so would I.”

Bodhi sticks out a hand for her to shake, which she readily accepts, once she’s switched her soup to the other hand. “It’s a deal, then?” He asks.

She laughs. “Deal.”

It’s only later, once they’ve parted ways at the subway station and she’s made her way back to her apartment, that her phone buzzes with a new text: You owe me five bucks . Jyn allows herself a stupid, giddy smile at Bodhi’s message, since she’s alone in her own home and no one can judge her for it.

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matrixaffiliate · 4 years

Text

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

I hope you have a fabulous week because you're a wonderful person! Our next update will be on Friday, October 2nd!

Chapter 12

"Have you been reading my detailed comments?" Ted asked as his thumb drew patterns on the back of Vic's hand. He'd read straight through her novel two weeks ago, then went back and had been spending the last week adding comments to her document.

Vic rolled her eyes as they walked up the drive to the Potter's home and tried to calm the nervous feeling that was trying to overpower her. Nervous because knowing she and Ted had been invited as a couple seemed to put a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Ted, you're leaving comments on every paragraph. How do you expect me to read that many comments? It's a hundred-thousand-word document! Especially with starting my new editing job on Monday?"

"You're an author, doesn't that mean you love to read every critique of the work you create?" He teased.

Vic shoved his shoulder with hers but smiled.

"You're ridiculous, you know?"

"Yes, but you're the one holding my hand, so where does that leave you?"

"Nervous about being here tonight as your girlfriend rather than only their niece," she admitted quietly.

"Hey," Ted stopped them and pulled her into him, "Harry and Ginny love you and there is no way they aren't happy for us, so please try to trust that they aren't out to get you."

Vic nodded but she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was out to make Ted see what a bad choice he made in giving her a chance.

Ted rapped his knuckles against the old door and they were both swept into a warm hug once Ginny opened.

"Vicky! Teddy! Come in, come in!"

"Thanks, Ginny," Ted grinned as he kicked off his shoes. "You should know that Mum and Dad are going to be supremely jealous when I tell them I brought Vic here before I brought her home to meet them."

Ginny shook her head at his teasing. "Teddy, dear, Victoire is my niece. I knew her for two decades before you did."

"But you also knew me for the same time before Vic knew me, so I'd say it cancels that out." Ted grinned.

Ginny looked heavenward and laughed. "Why do the Marauders have to leave their mark on every male in this family?" She turned to Vic. "Would you believe that even my sweet Al was trying to be a smart mouth the other day?"

Vic laughed, feeling the nervous pit in her stomach start to ease just a bit.

"Al? Really?"

"Al's better at it than the rest of us." Ted walked with them into the kitchen. "He's more like my dad, and Dad always manages to get the best of the other three brothers."

"Heaven help me, then," Ginny chuckled.

"Why ask for heaven's help when I'm right here?" Harry winked at her as she moved to help him with dinner.

"You're a legacy of the problem, love." Ginny leant over and kissed his cheek.

"Ginny is bemoaning the way the Marauders are rubbing off on Al." Teddy sat down at the table and pulled Vic down with him.

"Bemoaning?" Ginny's eyebrows shot up and she turned to glare at Ted.

Vic covered her smile with her hand.

"I'm a simple man, Ginny," Ted grinned, "I use simple words."

Harry turned and Vic could see he was putting a great deal of effort into not laughing.

"You're in an odd humor today, Ted."

Ted shrugged, "I'm happy."

Then he grinned over at Vic and squeezed her thigh. Vic felt the shy smile break across her face and knew there was no way she could stop it.

"Hands above the table!" Jamie shouted behind them, causing Vic to almost fall off her chair.

Vic turned to glare at her cousin feeling her face heat up, unconsciously directing some of her anxiety into the anger that bubbled at his surprising her.

"Are you going to make a habit of tormenting us every chance you get?" She shot at him. Why couldn't Jamie just leave her alone?

"Whoa," Jamie held up his hands, "I'm just playing Vicky, you know it's all in good fun."

Vic huffed, "You've never done this to me before."

"Yeah, well, Sean was a bit of a prick."

Vic felt like Jamie had just kicked her in the chest. She knew she and Sean hadn't been right for each other, but she hadn't thought he was an awful person.

"James!" Ginny gave her son a pointed stare.

"What?" Jamie defended as he pulled a soda can out of the fridge. "We all knew he was; it just took Vicky a while to see it. But she saw the light in the end and now she's with Ted and we can all breathe easy again."

Vic dropped her eyes down and realized she was wringing her hands. Did everyone feel that she had been dating a prick? Was the whole family talking about her poor choices behind her back, not saying anything because they all believed she wouldn't listen to reason? If everyone knew Sean was awful, why had no one made a point of showing her?

"Why don't you see if Al or Lily needs anything, Jamie?" Harry stepped between his eldest son and his wife, who was staring at the teen with menacing eyes.

Jamie glanced between his mum and Vic and then looked at his dad. "Yeah, good idea."

"Are you going to talk to him?" Ginny turned her dangerous glare to Harry.

"I'll talk him through it, love," Harry soothed, giving her a quick kiss. Ginny pursed her lips before seeming to decide to let it lie for now.

"I'm sorry," Vic kept her focus down at the table. "I shouldn't have goaded him."

"You're fine, Vic," Ted moved his arm to wrap it around her shoulders. "We're all a bit difficult when we're teenagers."

Vic bit her lip and leant into him, trying to take as much comfort as she possibly could in the warmth of his embrace.

"Are you excited about your new job?" Ginny asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Vic smiled, "I am, but I'm a little nervous too. I didn't really think that I'd get this one when you sent it to me. Most people I know write for a long time before they become assistant editors."

"But you have been writing dear," Ginny handed Harry the oven mitts and he pulled out the shepherd's pie that Grandma Molly made him teach her how to make. "You were the sole creator of Ron's initial website for his new company, all that text was put there by you. You handled the blog, you handled the page information, that site was all you."

"Plus your book," Ted added. "That's a lot of writing experience."

Vic started to object again but Ginny held up her hand.

"You'll do just fine, dear. I've known Emmeline for almost as long as I've known Harry, she wouldn't have hired you if she didn't think you were right for the job."

Vic nodded, but she still felt nervous. Why did it feel like everything made her nervous these days? Harry moved the large pie to the table and Vic tried to use it as a way to change the subject. She was done having the conversation revolve around her questionable life choices

"This is one of my favorite meals." She gestured to the shepherd's pie.

Ted hummed his agreement. "Aunt Lily's shepherd's pie is pretty amazing."

"I thought it was Uncle Harry's recipe?" Vic turned to him, grateful that Ted pushed the conversation away from the topics that made her stomach clench.

"Who do you think taught me how to make it?" Harry chuckled.

"I guess I forget sometimes that you and my aunts have families outside of us." Vic felt a bit sheepish. "I'm sure Aunt Hermione and the rest of them have recipes that are their parents' too, huh?"

Ginny laughed loud and Harry smiled at Vic's confused face. "Have you ever noticed that your Aunt Hermione doesn't tend to cook much? Yes, her parents have recipes they've passed down, but they've passed them down to Ron. Hermione hates cooking."

Vic chuckled and was grateful when Ginny suggested she and Ted collect her cousins for dinner. And thankfully the Potter brood managed to keep the conversation spinning well enough that Vic was able to just sit back and enjoy. But her initial feeling of dread seemed well justified when Uncle Harry asked her to help him with getting the pudding out later that evening.

"Vicky," Harry handed her a stack of plates, "How are things?"

"Fine," Vic took the plates and set them out on the table, trying for all the world to look unconcerned as she pointedly ignored the clenching feeling in her stomach and the way her heart beat harder in her chest.

"Vic, we love you, you know that, right?"

She nodded, still refusing to look her uncle in the eye.

"Then what's going on? You've been really reserved and jumpy tonight."

Vic bit her lip and tried for boldness, but when she met Uncle Harry's gaze, she realized how foolish an idea that had been. She was not strong enough to shrug this off while looking him in the eye.

"Are you unhappy with Teddy?" Harry pressed.

"No!" Vic felt the air rush out of her.

"Well, then what's going on?"

Vic bit her lip before falling into one of the chairs and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"You know what happened before we got together. Aren't you worried about Ted being with me?"

Harry stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry, that one completely missed me."

"Harry, I was encouraging Ted's flirting while I was dating and engaged to Sean. Wouldn't you be worried if Jamie started dating someone you knew wasn't faithful to their previous relationship?" Vic didn't dare look up at her uncle. She almost expected him to go talk to Ted then and now and convince him to wash his hands of her.

"What does Teddy say about what you're getting at here?" Harry came to sit across from her.

Vic shook her head. "He keeps telling me that I'm crazy."

"Then I'm going to side with Teddy."

Vic squeezed her arms tighter around herself. "You mean how everyone sided with me while I was in a relationship that I shouldn't have been in?"

Harry sighed. "Vicky, we love you, and if you had decided you did love Sean, then we would have done what we could to support you in that relationship."

"Even though everyone thought he was a prick? Even though it would have been bad for me to stay with him?" Vic finally looked up at Harry.

"Vicky, one of the things that come with being an adult is that the grown-ups that raised you have to back off and let you make your own decisions, and let you deal with whatever those consequences happen to be. We all still want to help you, and we may make suggestions along the way, but we can't dictate your lives. How else will you learn other than having to make your decisions and live with the consequences of them?"

"So, even if being with me is bad for Ted, you'll not try to stop him?"

Harry chuckled, "I've not seen Ted happier than I see him now with you, but yes, even if he was unhappy, I wouldn't try to sabotage your relationship with him. If he came to me for help, I would definitely try to help him find happiness, but I would never tell him to break off a relationship. Those sorts of decisions are personal ones, and they have to come from the individual."

Vic took a deep breath and forced herself to ask one last question. "What about the rest of your family, would they do the same thing?"

"Who do you think taught me that when a kid becomes an adult the grown-ups have to let them learn from their own choices?"

"So, no one is going to try and talk Ted out of being with me?"

"No, Vicky, I think the only person you need to be concerned about in that area is yourself."

Vic blinked, "What?"

"If you can't believe that you're worthy of being loved, then sooner or later, you'll be the one to walk away."

Vic sat in stunned silence as her uncle's words washed over her, but before she could respond, Lily came bounding in asking if it was time for dessert yet.

Uncle Harry's comment felt an awful lot like the list that her mum had written several months ago. She really wished that everyone would stop trying to vaguely point her in the right direction and just tell her what she needed to do. But Harry's comment about loving herself made her feel suddenly exposed in the worst way. She wanted to put on a sweatshirt and curl under a blanket. Why did the concept of loving herself make her want to find a rock to hide under? Vic realized it was probably close to the same reason that her mum's list made her want to tear the page out of her notebook and burn it.

"You ok?" Ted pulled her into him as they walked from the Potter's to his car. "You've been pretty quiet tonight."

Vic rested her head against his shoulder and sighed, "I'm starting to realize that I might have farther to go than I think I want to."

"You missed me," Ted leant back against his car and pulled her close to his chest. Vic let her arms snake around his neck and tried to enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in Ted's embrace.

"My mum, and Uncle Harry, both seem to think that I've got some personal growth I could be doing, and I'm feeling like what they're suggesting is more than I might be able to handle."

"How can I help?" Ted dropped his face and nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

"I don't even know where to start, Ted, let alone how you could help."

Ted pulled his chin down her cheek, his five o'clock shadow pulling a giggle out of her.

"Well, maybe we sit down together, look at where you are, and see if between the two of us we can find a way forward, along with how I can help."

Vic bit her lip and pulled back to look at him. "This is scary."

"My mum says that most things that are worthwhile are scary." Ted soothed as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. "But you don't have to do it alone. Scary things aren't so bad when we do them with other people."

"Are you some self-exploratory expert then?"

Ted laughed and brought his lips to hers. Vic pulled closer, pressing up on her toes to deepen the kiss.

"There's the real Vic, I knew she couldn't have gone far." Ted murmured against her.

"What does that even mean?" She chuckled.

"You go get things, Vic. I'm not a self-help expert, but I know that you go get what you want, and that's the only thing you really need." Then he nipped at her ear. "And I'm never going to turn down excuses to spend more time with you."

He kissed down her neck and Vic hummed as her fingers moved through his turquoise hair.

"We should probably stop snogging out here," she sighed as he slowly moved his lips closer to hers. "I'm waiting for Jamie to come out and yell at us to stop."

Ted smirked as he pulled back, "You're probably right, but this is why I have a flat of my own."

"Why don't we take advantage of that before you take me home?" Vic finally started to feel more herself as Ted's appreciative hum vibrated in his chest against hers.

"See every now and again you have these amazing ideas and I end up wondering how I ever managed to make it this far without you."

"You're ridiculous," she pressed forward again, running her tongue against his lips.

"And you're kissing me," Ted murmured, pulling her flush against him and moving a hand to her hair.

"Will you two get a room!?" Jamie yelled from his bedroom window, looking down at the two of them in the front-drive.

"We were just on our way out, Jamie," Ted called back up to him as he reached behind him to open the car door.

When she finally made it home, Victoire opened up the notebook that had her mum's notes in it and read them again.

You and your desires are important.

You are a good person.

You are brave.

You must decide your life's story.

A few lines underneath them she added Uncle Harry's advice.

If you can't believe that you're worthy of being loved, then sooner or later, you'll be the one to walk away.

She didn't feel any closer to finding herself, but seeing it all laid out in front of her, she realized that Uncle Harry's words had given her a bit of direction. Maybe if she could just believe these things, then maybe it would help her see the way forward. And knowing that Ted was going to try and help her made her feel a little less like she was floundering.

Vic was pulled from her internal struggle by the chime of her text message notification.

Ted: Have you read my comments yet?

She laughed and pulled her laptop to her.

Vic: I was just about to start.

Ted's typing bubble made her giddy.

Ted: Good. I think you're going to like what I've put so far.

Vic typed in her password and waited for her computer to log in.

Vic: I'm sure that I'll wonder if we're reading the same document.

She bit her lip and smiled. Teasing Ted was almost as much fun as kissing him.

Ted: Stop that. Go read my comments and you'll see this story of yours is going to be big.

Vic rolled her eyes and opened her browser.

Vic: You have to say that, you're my boyfriend.

Ted's response was almost instant.

Ted: No, I have to say it because it's true. Now stop texting me and start reading. ;)

Vic opened the document and sighed. She hadn't read through her story in almost a year now. It felt like going back to an old childhood favorite food and it made her nervous. She'd liked some pretty awful things when she was a kid, some good things too, but a lot of things that now she found repugnant. Was she about to find out that she had spent three years on something that she now hated? Vic tried to breathe through the anxiety and took a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with." And she started reading.

#Endeavor #tedoire #tedoire fancfiction #tedoire au #tedoire muggle au #teddy x vic #ted x vic #teddy x victoire #teddy lupin x victoire weasley #teddy lupin #victoire weasley #next generation #next gen fanfic #next gen au #next generation muggle au #fluff #romance #coworkers romance #harry potter fanfiction

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anubislover · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 16: Salvage

As much as Nami would have loved to set out right away to get the antivenom, she knew there was no choice but to wait at least two hours until the tide was low enough to safely explore the shipwreck. From what she could observe through the binoculars, it was securely lodged into the rocks and reef that surrounded the island, but much of it was only really accessible when the tide was out.

So, with no other choice but to play the waiting game, she found herself perusing a zoology book to pass the time.

“Huh. Apparently, snow leopards can’t roar—however, their tails are super mobile and are often used to send ‘messages’ during social encounters. They’re ambush attackers who generally pounce down on their prey from above, which is easy since they’re excellent climbers and can jump up to seven times their body length. They’re also known as the ‘Ghosts of the Mountains’ in some places because they’re so shy and solitary,” she prattled, skimming over the description before looking up at Law, who huffed in annoyance as his tail irritably flicked back and forth.

Clearly, the transformed captain was antsy. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to join his companions on their salvaging mission. Naturally, he’d thrown a fit, hissing and growling and making all sorts of angry sounds—including what she now assumed was his failed attempt to roar—but the pair of navigators stood firm. It was only when Nami pointed out that, Devil Fruit powers or not, he didn’t know how to swim in his current form which made him a potential liability, that he reluctantly acquiesced.

Of course, since he couldn’t help and would be forced to stay on the ship alone, he needed something to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t pace around the infirmary, speeding up the poison’s journey through his bloodstream. Unfortunately, he was having a harder time distracting himself than Nami, as his furry paws made it impossible enjoy a book past a couple pages. Reading aloud to him was the only real option and keeping him informed of his current form’s capabilities at least seemed useful. However, it appeared that there wasn’t a lot of information on snow leopards due to their reclusive nature.

As if human Law isn’t mysterious enough, she thought, skipping to another section. “Ok, what do you want to hear about next; pandas or binturongs? Or should we switch to birds?” she asked, indicating another book by Dr. Monroe. Bepo had been nice enough to lug over the man’s entire encyclopedia series, which ranged from reptiles to mammals to birds from all four Blues.

Yellow eyes rolled heavenwards as Law grumbled under his breath. Bepo wasn’t around at the moment to translate, but Nami could pretty easily deduce that he was displeased with both options.

“Well, sorry Law, but I already told you that I’m not reading any of your creepy-ass medical texts! If you don’t want me to read to you, we’ll find you a ball of yarn or something,” she snapped, slamming the book closed.

Spotted ears flattened back as he gave a brief flash of his fangs before calming down, looking away with a huff. Yet despite his haughty expression, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his claws flexed in and out.

He was trying to hide it, but Nami could tell Law was quietly freaking out.

She sighed as she reached out to stroke his brow soothingly. “Sorry. Guess we’re both a bit tense, huh?”

He grunted in affirmation but didn’t pull away, instead leaning into her touch.

Deciding that petting him would be a much better distraction than reading for both of them, she began scratching behind his ears with gusto as she said, “Look, I get that this must suck for you, especially considering how used to being in control you are. I’m sure I wouldn’t be much happier if I were turned into a cat. But I promise Bepo and I will be fine. It’s just a quick salvage mission; we get the antivenom, plus the supplies that guy needs, and then head straight back to the Tang. Easy-peasy. You’ll be back on your feet by dawn, and human again by breakfast.”

He gave her a disbelieving side-eye before arching his neck back, silently indicating that she should direct her attentions there.

Nami rolled her eyes but followed his instruction, fingers firmly scratching under his chin. After all, when else would she get the chance to cuddle a snow leopard like a friendly housecat? That, and he seemed less inclined to argue with her when he was getting so much physical attention. “You must know you’ve got a capable crew, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have sailed this far with them. Sure, there are plenty of things that only you can do, but delegation of duties is an essential leadership skill. When this is all over, I want to you to start trusting your nakama more, got it?” she scolded, even as she carded her fingers along his broad chest, her hands practically disappearing into the luxuriously thick fur.

She had to admit, she did kind of like him like this. He was gloriously fluffy, she could ignore his snide comments and innuendos, and petting him was oddly enjoyable. Not that she wanted Law to stay like this forever, as she would miss their verbal sparring and occasional intelligent conversations, but she found herself wondering if, just maybe, when he turned back, he could…keep the ears and tail? He’d be so cute with them!

As she scratched his chin, a smug smirk curled her lips. “You know, maybe we should keep you like this for a little while longer. It’ll teach you to rely on your crew a bit more, and I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind having my own pet snow leopard,” she teased.

Law’s eyes narrowed at the statement before a wide smirk of his own spread across his muzzle, a hungry glint shining in the gold irises. It was an expression Nami could only describe as “deviously seductive” and she was certain that if he were in his human form, she’d be pinned to the nearest flat surface.

He gave a low, almost purring growl, and she immediately inferred it to mean “enjoy it while you can, because the second I’m me again, you are in so much trouble.” The message was further punctuated by the way he leaned in and inhaled against her neck, his whiskers tickling her chin.

Do not be aroused by a cat. Do not be aroused by a cat, Nami chanted in her head, blushing as her imagination was filled with Law in his human form, yet sporting those ears and tail she’d found so cute. Only, it wasn’t quite so adorable when paired with a feral smile and graceful, prowling movements as he caged her against a wall.

Realizing exactly where her thoughts were straying, she immediately sought to distract both Law and herself by reaching up to scratch behind his ears, earning her a series of very happy sounds from the big cat. It was hard to be seductive when you were getting petted like a big, fluffy kitty, after all.

Leaning hard into her touch, he let out a few deep meows, eyes shutting tightly in pleasure as she hit a particularly good spot.

“Umm, he just said ‘If the trade fails, your job for the rest of the year is doing this. Constantly’,” Bepo explained as he poked his head into the room. He carefully made his way to the bed, his hands occupied by a large bowl of water and a massive tray of raw meat while Kikoku was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

It hadn’t dawned on any of them until Law’s stomach had started growling that he hadn’t eaten anything since the pocky game, so the bear had offered to get him some food from the galley. Despite his captain’s current form, Nami had expected his order to be along the lines of onigiri, though she could now see that had been a bit optimistic.

“Are you sure this is what you’re hungry for, Law?” Bepo asked, looking down at the meat dubiously. “It’d really be no trouble to cook it up for you.”

Law’s eyes lit up at the sight of the bloody steaks and gave a few yowls in reply, pulling away from Nami’s hands to eagerly sit up.

The Mink blanched at his response. “Ew, Law! That’d technically be cannibalism!”

“What would?” Nami asked, horrified.

“Eating the boar that attacked us, since it used to be a human like him.” Bepo shuddered before handing him the food. “Here. They’re a little cold, but they were the only non-frozen meat I could find.”

The leopard didn’t seem to mind, literally tearing into one of the raw steaks with a barely-contained hunger. His table manners weren’t exactly great as a human, but Nami found watching him devour his dinner like this was far worse.

Any half-hearted plans of keeping him as a leopard were immediately scrapped. If this is what feeding time would look like, it was not worth it.

Averting her eyes for the sake of not emptying her own stomach, she turned her focus to Bepo, who had leaned Kikoku against the cot. “Why’d you get that? It’s not like he can use it,” she asked, wiggling her fingers meaningfully.

“He knows that, but I think it makes him feel better having it around,” he whispered in her ear.

“Like a security blanket?”

“Yeah.”

She stifled a giggle with her hand. “Got it. How’s the tide looking?”

“Almost fully out. I think it’s about time to go.”

“Sounds good. Think Law will be ok without us for a few hours?”

They turned to find Law on his back, batting at Kikoku’s dangling tassels. Feeling their amused gazes on him, he glared and let out a growl.

“Law says, ‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you’.”

This time, Nami didn’t bother to hide her laughter.

XXX

The trip over to the wreck had been fairly smooth—the weather was calm, the nearly-full moon provided plenty of light to see by, and their small motorboat managed to navigate the sharp rocks that poked out of the water. They’d grabbed a few empty backpacks to carry their loot, along with her lock picks and a lantern to light the way inside. Nami hoped they wouldn’t need much more than that; their boat was designed for speed and maneuverability, not weight, so they couldn’t afford to bring more than necessary.

As they pulled up alongside the ship, she was amazed at how well-preserved it was. Sure, it was definitely never going to sail again, but it was still in one piece; far better off than the ship that had fallen from Skypia that she’d made the boys salvage back what felt like a lifetime ago. Barnacles encased nearly every inch of the hull, and there were noticeable holes in the side that looked like damage from canon fire. If she had to guess, the pirates had been escaping a battle and gotten caught up in a storm, leading them to be shipwrecked on the cove. Her theory of a storm was confirmed when she got a good look at the mast—it was charred and splintered, clearly damaged by a lightning strike, and the sails were burned to black tatters.

From what she could tell, there were three levels, much like the Thousand Sunny. Given her experience infiltrating and robbing pirate ships in the past, she figured they’d find the galley, sick bay, and crew’s living quarters on the main deck level. The captain’s quarters and treasure room would take up most of the top level. Below deck would be additional living quarters, storage space, and brig.

She didn’t have high hopes for the lower level—it spent the most time underwater compared to the others, so it’d likely have little to offer. Still, her time as a thief had taught her not to completely rule out a secret treasure room or safe hidden deep in the bowls of the ship, as some of the smarter crews had learned not to keep the best stuff in the obvious places.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” she said to Bepo as they climbed up onto the deck. The wood was slippery with kelp and algae, and she could already see several large holes where the wood had rotted through. “We need to locate the antivenom first—the sick bay’s our best bet. Next, we’ll get the stuff we need for the trade. Depending on the shape the ship is in, though, you might need to hang back if the floors are too rotted.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

She carefully stepped over a broken railing—the whole ship listed slightly to the left, so keeping their balance was tricky. “We need to be careful; Law’s already all pissy because he couldn’t come with us. If we come back with so much as a scratch, he’s going to bitch about how he should have been there. This is your chance to prove to him that he can trust other people and that he doesn’t need to be such a control freak.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t want to rely on him so much,” Bepo said sadly as he reached out a paw for her to take, helping her climb over some debris, “but if we don’t let him get his way, he does it behind our backs, and sometimes he gets hurt because of it. At least when we let him be in charge, he’ll let us go along as backup.”

“Well, not this time,” she reaffirmed, eyes narrowed seriously. “You need to stand up for yourself more, just like you did back in the infirmary. Doing that probably saved his life!”

“I know,” he replied as they reached the entrance to the main deck. “It’s just…Shachi, Penguin and I have followed him since we were kids. The three of us were lost in a big world and desperate for a leader. And sure, we’re all grown up now, but he’s still the one with the plans and ambitions and power…”

“Yeah, he’s powerful,” she agreed, gingerly testing out the floor. When it proved solid enough, she motioned for Bepo to follow her inside. She knew they had to step lightly, though—even if the rooms only got halfway submerged at high tide, it was still enough to cause significant structural damage. “That doesn’t mean he’s all-powerful. You guys have your strengths, too. He can’t navigate, right?”

“Well, no…”

“Can he shoot a rifle like Shachi?”

“He can fire a gun, but he’s no sharpshooter.”

“Can he fix the engine like Ikkaku?”

“Absolutely not! Law specifically hired her because none of us could figure out the engine!”

“See? Everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses. Yes, there are certain things only Law can do, but he can’t do it all. He’s already pulling double-duty as the captain and doctor; you guys need to step in when he starts making too much work for himself.”

“We stepped in on the beach,” he defended as he pointed out a room at the end of the hall with a little red cross over it.

Taking the hint, Nami carefully made her way towards it, indicting to him the spots that obviously couldn’t take the polar bear’s weight. “It shouldn’t have taken that long, though! He spent a week not sleeping, running himself into the ground—”

“Law only listens to us when things are really bad!” Bepo shouted, stamping his foot in frustration. Unfortunately, the force combined with the unstable wood sent his leg crashing through the floor.

“Whoa!” Nami cried, grabbing his arm to stabilize him while he pulled the limb out. Though that particular spot wasn’t rotted, it had been flanked by splintered sections that hadn’t offered much support. “Ok, you know what? Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this,” she said as nervous sweat dripped down her neck. She was so used to Bepo being meek and apologetic, she’d forgotten that he was a super-strong Mink. Him losing his temper was dangerous, especially here.

He nodded quickly, paws trembling the slightest bit. “Agreed,” he whimpered, his round ears drooping with shame. “I’m sorry.”

She immediately felt guilty. It was one thing to give a guy a much-needed lecture, but she’d been so far up on her high horse she hadn’t considered that they had significantly more important things to focus on. “It’s fine. I did say you needed more backbone, didn’t I?” Steadying herself, she helped him to his feet. “Let’s just hold off on the subject until we’re back on the Tang.”

“Ok,” he whimpered, head still hanging in contrition.

Nami made a mental note to keep an eye on the poor guy. He’d clearly been taking this whole fiasco harder than she’d thought. His captain was powerless and poisoned, his crew was missing, they had to trudge around a dangerous, rotting ship to appease a crazy old man, and Nami was basically telling him that it was his fault for not better controlling his stubborn captain.

Once this was over, she’d make it up to him. Maybe get him another giant salmon or something on the next island. Or more ear scratches. He’d seemed to like those, and it didn’t cost her money.

That in mind, she cautiously opened the door to the sick bay, wincing at the moaning creak the rusty hinges gave out. The room itself was fairly standard for a pirate ship—an examination table, sick bed, desk, skeleton display (which Nami hoped was fake and for reference purposes, and not some poor soul who’d been picked clean by the fishes), small cages for lab animals, and what were probably the sodden remains of the physician’s texts and notes. However, the state of the place would give Chopper a conniption fit; seaweed and algae clung to nearly every surface, the padding on the chair and cot had been ripped apart, glass from broken bottles was all over the floor, and the place reeked of decomposing wood and salt.

Of course, none of that mattered to Nami as her attention was quickly drawn to the large safe in the back of the room. It was made of stainless steel, so while barnacles and rockweed had attached themselves to the surface, there was blessedly minimal rust.

“Think that’s where we’ll find our antivenom?” she asked rhetorically, already examining the lock to see if it needed to be picked. It was a fairly simple one—it needed a key as opposed to a combination—and Nami immediately pulled out her lockpicks, carefully jimmying the tumblers into place.

The tiny click was easily heard by both navigators, who’d unconsciously held the breaths. They both exhaled a soft “whoa” as the door swung open, revealing stacks of trays filled with carefully labeled vials. Many of them were the antivenom they sought, but there were also shelves full of the venom itself; mostly coral snake, though there were notably a few others like king cobra, black mamba, and pit viper.

“That’s a lot of snake venom,” Nami said with a shudder, imagining the number of snakes it must have taken to get that much stock. And they’d kept them on the ship? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“The old man did say those pirates dealt in it.” Bepo peered at the assortment of antivenom before selecting a vial. “Here’s the coral snake. Should we take any of the others?”

“Hell, take it all. It’s not doing any good here, and I’m sure after this fiasco Law would want to have extra antivenom on hand just in case. Anything he doesn’t want, we can sell.”

“Law will like that. Antivenom goes for big money at hospitals, since it’s not always easy to get access to. But the venom itself we should dump—I don’t like the idea of anyone getting a hold of this much poison.”

Nami couldn’t agree more. There was only one reason she could think of for why anyone would want snake venom in large quantities—murder. And whether the Navy, pirates, or Revolutionaries were the buyers made no difference.

As Bepo carefully loaded up the backpack with the antivenom, she fished out the deadly vials and began flinging them out the broken window. She could hear some crash against the rocks while others plopped into the sea, hopefully lost forever. So long, and good riddance, she thought, taking a bit of pleasure in imagining she was flinging away the snake that had bitten Law. She wondered if coral snakes could swim, or if the snake had drowned when she’d blasted it away into the water. She hoped it was the latter.

When she was done, Nami assessed the rest of the room. “Should we take anything else?” There were syringes, a microscope, stethoscopes, scalpels, and several other assorted medical apparatuses, though none of it was in particularly great shape.

Glancing at the waterlogged infirmary, Bepo wrinkled his nose in disdain. “No way. This equipment’s nothing compared to the Tang’s, and I doubt the sanitation of most of it after months exposed to the elements. It’s not even worth selling.”

Mouth twisting in disgust as she found herself agreeing with his assessment, Nami eyed the knapsack on his back. He’d loaded the trays that kept the vials upright, but they didn’t completely protect them when he moved. “Are those going to be safe like that?”

“I’ve stacked them as best I could, but we should try to find cloth to wrap them in for extra protection so they’re not just banging against each other,” he replied, shifting nervously. Even with that small motion, Nami could swear she heard a gentle clink of glass hitting glass.

It was tempting to suggest they put the bag in the motorboat for safekeeping, but it was too risky; an errant wave could capsize the boat and dump their precious cargo into the ocean, and it all would have been for nothing. They’d just have to be careful.

“Maybe we can find some rags or something to use as padding,” Nami suggested, leading them back into the hallway. Until then, they’d absolutely have to watch their step; another crash through the floor like earlier, and they risked a backpack full of unusable liquid and broken test tubes.

Their next stop was the galley, and immediately they knew they’d find little of use there. The cooking utensils were rusted through, as were the pots and pans, and there was nothing that could convince them that opening the refrigerator would result in anything less than a biohazard. Nami braved a trip to the pantry; there was some tinned food that looked to still be in decent condition, though she decided to pass on the can opener—it was guaranteed to give someone tetanus.

I sure hope we have better luck with the rest of the ship, she thought gloomily as they decided to take a chance on the upper deck, otherwise we won’t have much to trade for the crew.

“Should we go upstairs to the captain’s quarters, or the other side of the ship for the crew’s?” Bepo asked, pointing at the ceiling.

After dropping the canned goods into her own sack, Nami considered the question. Given its position high above the ocean and rocks, it likely had sustained the least amount of damage, making it the safest to check out. It also likely had the most usable goods, meaning that if they could find what they needed there, they wouldn’t have to bother with the other rooms.

“Captain’s room. If anyone on this ship owned a pair of good, hearty boots, it’d be them.”

The stairs to the top deck creaked and groaned with every step, but thankfully they held together well enough, even under Bepo’s weight.

The top deck held only one door, which was probably ornate before the wreck—now, the red and gold paint was chipped and faded while the etched handle was rusted over. Nami carefully tested the knob, only to find it jammed. “Bepo, would you be a dear and get the door?” she asked sweetly, moving to the side.

The bear stepped forward, taking a minute to futilely try to turn the knob himself. Nami sighed and stopped him before miming what she meant for him to do.

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied before kicking in the door, the force of the blow sending it clear across the room.

“Guess you’re not used to breaking and entering, huh?” she joked. A thought came to her. “By the way, how’d you get into Law’s room earlier? You know, to get Kikoku? It was locked when I checked.”

Bepo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why were you trying to get into his room?”

She froze. Shit. She needed a good explanation, or else he’d surely say something to Law, and any hope she’d have of getting in there would be ruined. “Oh! Uh, I wanted to see if he’d returned to the sub!” she lied, putting on an innocent smile. “You know, it would have been silly for us to search the island for him when he’d been in his room the whole time!”

He scratched his head guiltily. “Oh. That makes sense. Sorry I didn’t think of that.” Gingerly stepping into the room to ensure the floor was stable, he explained, “I have a key to his room for emergencies. I mean, he rarely has to worry about locking himself out, what with his powers and all, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

It felt wrong to take advantage of Bepo’s trust and innocence, but Nami knew this was her chance to get into Law’s room. “Do you carry it on you most of the time, or do you keep it in your room for safekeeping?”

“Oh, I usually leave it in my top desk drawer so it doesn’t get lost.”

“See? You’re responsible! Further proof that Law’s stupid for not trusting you more,” she chirped, lightly hopping over a hole in the floor. Standing in the center of the captain’s quarters, she took in what had probably been fairly luxurious accommodations before the wreck.

While the elements hadn’t too severely affected the room since it managed to stay above water, two months of rain, wind, and waves coming through the broken windows had clearly taken its toll. The velvet curtains were tattered and coated with a layer of salt and seaweed. There was a leather chair that had seen better days, a fancy wardrobe sporting clear water damage, and the decorative cutlass displayed over the bed looked like it could dissolve if touched, it was so rusted and tarnished. The cherrywood desk had become home to crabs and starfish, and there was a massive bird’s nest in the center of the king-sized bed. Oddly, though, there wasn’t much by way of bird crap over the floor. Yet something clearly lived there, as it looked like some kind of massive bird had decided to rip apart the mounted snow leopard head with its beak and talons.

It was the polar opposite of any room Luffy would ever want, even looking past the obvious deterioration. Her captain had always preferred sleeping with his crew, roughing it in a hammock or bunk bed. He’d never even mentioned a desire for his own cabin, despite a captain having every right to one. Heck, even back in the days of the Going Merry, the second room had been given to Nami and treated as the women’s quarters, despite them at the time not knowing if there would even be any other girls.

I wonder why? Nami thought to herself. Did he just not see any reason for having a room to himself, or did he genuinely dislike sleeping alone? Maybe he and Ace always shared a room, so he slept better with company?

It drove home just how little she really knew about Luffy’s past. When they were reunited, she’d have to sit him down and get his whole life story; why Shanks had given him his hat, whether Garp and the Revolutionary Dragon were his only living relatives, tales about growing up with Ace…

Shaking herself out of questions about the past and plans for the future, she focused on the present. “Check the wardrobe for the boots and blankets—I’ll see if the desk drawers are watertight enough to keep any books from getting destroyed.”

Bepo nodded, shuffling over to the far side of the room while Nami set to work picking the locks of the desk drawers. Most contained sodden papers, leaking pens, a few animal claws on a string, and a waterlogged pocket watch, but nothing of real value or use.

However, inside the top left drawer was a metal box. Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs as she imagined this could be where the captain had stashed his spare cash or prized pieces of treasure. Nimbly picking the padlock, she was disappointed to find just a few belli notes and a leather-bound journal. She stuffed the money in her bra for safekeeping and cracked open the log, hoping that it would at least tell her where the crew might have kept their treasure.

Captain’s Log: February 22nd Just made lucrative a deal with a stinking-rick noblewoman who wants a whole coat made of snow leopard fur, plus a pet baby snow leopard she can show off, but it’s not exactly easy to find those damn cats, especially outside the North Blue. Luckily, there’s a winter island not far from here with some conservationists studying them; maybe if we make nice, they’ll lead us to a few.

Captain’s Log: April 4th We may have found our ultimate meal ticket. Why search the Grand Line for exotic animals when you have a Devil Fruit user who can MAKE them? One of the conservationists can actually turn people into animals—he’s been using it to transform his fellow scientists so they can get close to the animals they’re studying. He’s an older man. Weak. Idealistic. Shouldn’t be hard to break him in.

Captain’s Log: April 10th Doc says he can’t really choose what to turn people into, but I think it’s bullshit. Yesterday, he turned the cabin boy into a calf, probably so he’ll think he’s useless. Joke’s on him, though—that veal was damn tasty. Good to know we’ll always have a supply of meat on a long voyage. Hell, maybe we could open a butcher shop on the side.

Captain’s Log: April 18th You know, I used to just put a bullet in an animal’s brain to kill it before skinning, but that always was such a bitch to clean up, plus it risked damaging the rest of the coat. But then Akio came up with a great idea—kill them with snake venom! It’s a lot less messy, depending on what you use, and I can save my bullets.

On top of that, Doc’s still trying to rebel by turning prisoners into useless animals like mice and hamsters. Except now we’ve got ourselves some excellent lab rats for making antivenom. Lemons and lemonade, right?

Captain’s Log: June 12th Doc’s “training” is coming along nicely. Sure, he still begs and pleads for us not to make him use his powers, but it doesn’t take much for him to give up anymore, and he’s finally giving us the animals we want. It helps that Haru was able to rig up one of the pullies to his cage so if he doesn’t comply, he gets a nice long dunk in the ocean to cool his head. Devil Fruit, am I right? I used to want one myself, but I’m starting to think it’s not worth the price.

Captain’s Log: June 18th Had to retrain Doc today. Thought he could get one over on me by turning a prisoner into a cobra. Too bad for him I was quick enough to shield my arm with Armament Haki. I think a long seawater bath will set him straight. Maybe break his leg, too, as a long-term reminder.

Doc really should be more grateful; it’s a win-win situation. We’re not killing or selling wild animals anymore, so his conservation work continues. And with all the fur, meat, and product we get out of it, we’re quickly getting filthy rich!

Captain’s Log: August 3rd Today was a huge score! We came across a lifeboat full of refugees. They were just floating there, helpless, packed in like sardines. Apparently, they’d been out there for days after their ship was attacked by a Sea King. We brought them aboard and promised we’d take them to the next island and provide food and shelter. They were so fucking grateful to be rescued they didn’t even care that we were pirates. Of course, their tunes changed once we started shoving them in cages!

We set Doc to work right away. The weakling whimpered a bit, especially when it came to the kids, but hey, it’s not like we’re breaking our promise; they’ll get to the next island. Maybe not in one piece, and definitely not human, but hey, them’s the breaks, right? It’s not like anyone will miss them, anyway.

Stomach churning with disgust, Nami couldn’t bring herself to do more than skim the later entries. Going by the dates, the captain had been making a massive profit off of selling exotic animal pelts, meat, venom, and pets for nearly two years. And he’d been forcing a man who’d devoted himself to protecting animals to do it.

No wonder the old man hated pirates. Had instinctively turned the Hearts into animals; he’d probably been scared out of his mind that they’d be just like the rest, ready to abuse and exploit him again. She could certainly relate.

“Nami?” Bepo’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Are you ok? You’re whiter than I am!”

Shaking her head, she tried to give a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Any luck on the boots?”

He held up a pair of what were once very fancy snakeskin boots, except they were clearly falling apart in his paws. “Sorry; even if they were wearable, they’re a size eight. But that book’s in good shape! Think it’s something we can give the old man?” he asked excitedly.

Swallowing hard, Nami stared at the leather journal. “No. I don’t think he’d want to read this.” If Arlong had ever kept a journal detailing all the awful things he’d done to exploit her, she’d much rather see it burn.

The Mink’s ears drooped at her answer. “Nami, what are we going to do if we can’t get the supplies we need for the trade?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? They needed those things to free the crew and get them turned back into humans. But everything on board was garbage at best. They needed some kind of solution, otherwise Law and the rest of the Hearts could give up any dreams of sailing the Grand Line, much less finding the One Piece.

What would Luffy do in this kind of situation?

The answer was so obvious, she nearly laughed.

“We’ll give him supplies from the Tang.”

Bepo’s black, button-like eyes widened as his jaw dropped in disbelief. “What?!”

“He’s not asking much; just basic amenities. We can get some pots and pans from the galley. Law wears a size ten—we’ll give him a pair of his boots. There’s gotta be spare blankets, and the library has tons of books we can give him. Hell, according to this,” she said, holding up the journal, “he was a conservationist; maybe he’d like that encyclopedia set by Dr. Monroe.”

Twiddling his claws nervously, Bepo cautioned, “Law’s not going to like giving the guy who turned him into a leopard any of our stuff.”

“Well, if Law wants to be human again, he’ll have to deal with it. We’ve got plenty of cash to replace them. Hell, if antivenom goes for as much as you say, we’ll be making a profit from this trip, so it evens out. We’re not giving him anything we can’t easily replace on Atifakuto.”

He blinked, surprised at her determination. “You know, I always heard you were greedy and didn’t like spending even a single belli on anyone but yourself. But you’re being surprisingly generous.”

A deep, melancholy frown marred her beautiful face as she stared down at the journal. “That old man…he was a prisoner. His powers—his passion—was exploited by pirates for years. He was abused, tortured, forced to turn innocent people into animals to be sold or slaughtered…” A knot formed in her throat, but she stubbornly swallowed it down. “If all he wants is a few pots and pans and to live out his life alone, I’m willing to spend a few belli on that.”

A large paw gently patted her shoulder. “Ok. I understand,” Bepo replied sympathetically. “Should we go back to the ship?”

That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? They didn’t need to linger. They could head right back to the Tang and start administering the antivenom.

Still, she didn’t want to risk anything happening to the glass vials if the ride back got bumpy. She didn’t want to use the blanket on the captain’s bed, though; it would disturb the bird’s nest, and enough animals had suffered aboard this ship. “We’ll check the crew’s quarters for those rags, then head back. But I think we can leave the lower level alone.”

“Ok, Nami,” Bepo said, giving a reassuring smile. “Should we leave the journal?”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding the leather-bound book in a white-knuckled grip. She took a deep, steadying breath as she pried her fingers off the diary’s spine, tucking it into her knapsack. “No. We’ll give it to the old man—it’ll make good kindling.”

Knowing what kind of bastard lived in that room, Nami was more than happy to march out of the captain’s quarters onto the main deck. That man was a monster. She hoped he drowned in the storm, or got turned into something truly horrible, like a centipede, or dung beetle, or—

The sound of heavy flapping caught her attention, and Nami only just managed to duck out of the way as a pair of sharp talons attempted to rake across her face.

“Eeeek!” she cried, crossing her arms across her face defensively. She could feel heavy gusts of wind beat against her as the bird missed, swooping past to land on the deck with a heavy thump.

“Nami!” Bepo cried as he ran out, growling at the enormous black vulture that glared at them both. Its head was dark and bald, and the hazel eyes were so hatefully human there was no question that it was another transformed pirate.

“Stay out of our way,” Bepo said to it, taking a fighting stance. He wobbled slightly, the wood beneath him creaking and the slant not helping his balance, but his expression remained firm.

The vulture gave a drawn-out, hateful hissing sound as it spread its massive wings, indicating the ship.

“So you’re the captain, huh?” Bepo replied. “Well, your ship’s gross!”

Nami wanted to sigh at her friend’s terrible attempt at trash-talk, but she decided it was better to lead by example. “So, the old man turned you into a vulture, huh?” she asked, getting up and assembling her Clima-Tact. “Guess it’s fitting for a scavenger like you!”

The captain let out another hiss before taking off into the air, catching the wind and soaring above them, circling the ship as it formulated a plan.

Nami, however, wasn’t going to let that happen. “Cyclone Tempo!” she shouted, swinging her staff and launching a gust of wind at the bird. It did the trick of knocking it off-course, sending it further into the sky, but it also blasted Nami backwards with enough force to send her crashing through a rotten part of the deck floor.

She screamed as the wood splintered around her and she tumbled through the air. Luckily it wasn’t a long drop, and instead of landing on the floor she splashed into water, which was just deep enough to keep her from sustaining any major harm.

Sputtering, she stood up. The seawater reached her waist, and there were enough holes in the ceiling to let the moonlight in so she could see.

She wished she couldn’t.

Nami’s stomach turned as she took in the large room. There were cages everywhere. Many of them were broken and covered in barnacles after two months being submerged in salt water, but a few were still in decent enough shape that there was no doubt that the ship’s lower level had basically been a prison. To her left was a huge workbench covered in bone saws, knives for skinning, whips, chains, collars, and all sorts of other contraptions she didn’t care to identify.

Pirates like these reminded her why she didn’t believe people like Luffy existed for so long. They beat and tortured an old man, who just wanted to protect wildlife, for the sake of exploiting his powers. Then, they forced him to turn innocent people into animals so they could be sold as pets, skinned, or otherwise extorted.

This wasn’t right. Nami had no problem with animals being used for food or domesticated, but this was completely different, even if they hadn’t been humans first. Those pirates had gone out of their way to be cruel if the whips and chains on the wall were anything to go by.

“I’m beginning to think the old man’s inability to swim wasn’t the only reason he didn’t want to come back here,” she whispered to herself.

“Nami! Are you ok?!” Bepo called down, poking his head into the hole she’d fallen through. His eyes widened as he took in the cages, rusted saws, and chains. She could imagine that, even after two months being washed away by the brine, he could still smell lingering traces of blood and animal flesh.

When he bared his teeth in anger, Nami knew he’d managed to connect the dots of what exactly had occurred on the ship.

“I’m ok!” she assured, looking for the exit. “I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ll come down and get you!”

“Don’t risk it!” she cried, already wading towards the stairs. She could feel the rotten wood giving way beneath her with every step. “The floor can barely hold my weight, much less yours. Keep a lookout for that vulture, though!”

“Ok—” his response was cut off by a roar of pain, and through the gap between Bepo’s head and the edge of the hole Nami could see sharp talons grasping at his neck.

“Bepo!” she screamed, wading as fast as she could towards the stairs, stumbling over debris and holes and possibly even bones. She forced herself not to think about that—what mattered was getting upstairs and helping her friend!

Finally, she was able to pull herself out of the water, and the stairs cracked and broke beneath her feet as she ran up, but she didn’t care. When she got to the door at the top, she slammed her thin shoulder against it, fighting the rusty lock and hinges as they tried to keep her from the outside world. Not to be deterred, she braced herself against the corner of the stairway and unleashed another Cyclone Tempo to break them open.

The doors went flying, and Nami dashed outside in time to see the vulture take off, Bepo’s knapsack in its talons.

“No!” she screamed, futilely diving for the bird, but it was out of her reach. She was tempted to blast it down with a lightning bolt, but that would most certainly destroy the vials kept inside the bag. Another blast of wind would just push it further away, and her other attacks were useless.

As it flew towards the island, the vulture turned its bald head and gave a menacing hiss.

“What did it say?” Nami asked as she rushed to Bepo’s side. His neck and shoulders were scratched up, but his thick fur and skin had prevented them from going too deep.

“He said…he said ‘if you want the antivenom, bring us the doctor’,” he whimpered, looking confused. “But why would they want Law?”

“They don’t,” Nami replied sadly, staring at the island. “They want the old man.”

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absentlyabbie · 4 years

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The Narrative Mechanics of Kissing

booklovers au

@storiesofimagination prompted me for this au and “first kiss” and got, well, 10 pages of... this. enjoy :)

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Tommy hunched over the keyboard, brow furrowed and fingers flying, deep in the zone as he drafted the next scene of his current manuscript. Perhaps it was the creative influx of innovating a new corner of the genre, but he felt like a live wire, harnessed, all intensity and electric force funneled to a purpose.

He was focus distilled, passion refined, a towering inferno of zeal and concentration—

Behind him, stifled laughter exploded inelegantly against a suppressing palm, and Tommy blinked hard, sitting up with a sharp and startled breath.

Snapped abruptly out of the escalator of flowery synonyms that had been running in the back of his head, Tommy looked at the screen and frowned hard.

“Wha…? That can’t be right,” he muttered, incredulous at the three slim paragraphs gracing an otherwise blank page. He would have sworn he’d written thousands, pages of words.

Another muffled laugh ended with a snort, and Tommy rolled his eyes heavenward and swiveled his chair to direct his frown at the blonde lying on his couch. Felicity had her bare feet propped against the armrest, hair spread golden and curling across the cushion. Pink lips pressed in a bitten grin, cheeks red as she swallowed another giggle, eyes focused on the several stapled pages she held over her head.

“Okay,” he drawled dryly, “I know I’m a master of wit and all, but I know for a fact nothing that funny happens in that chapter.”

Felicity jolted like she’d forgotten about him, to his stifled annoyance, and she lifted herself on one elbow and lay the pages on her stomach. “Um.” She snuck a finger under her glasses to wipe dampness from her lashes. “Not intentionally funny, no.”

His head pulled back, brows jumping high in affront. “Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Felicity winced, but there was still a smile in it. “Do you want me to lie and massage your ego?”

Tommy’s mouth worked and cheeks burned, speechless for a moment with equal parts embarrassment and wounded pride. He swallowed it manfully and cleared his throat. “Of course not. You are here as an editor, and I am a fully grown man.” He made a wheeling motion with his hand. “Spit it out. What’s so funny?”

She pushed herself up and swung her legs around to fold them on the cushions, propping her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. She lifted the pages in front of her and cleared her throat before dramatically reading out, “‘Annie melted against the hard planes of the vigilante’s leather-clad body as his lips crushed against hers. Her skin was electric under his touch, the commanding press of his mouth intoxicating. Her lips parted on a gasp, and his tongue swept into her mouth, battling her own for domination.’” She looked up at him over her glasses, one eyebrow sharply arched. “Do you need me to go on?”

Arms folding defensively, Tommy leaned back in his chair, one leg sticking out long. “What’s wrong with it? That scene is barely even starting.”

Felicity scoffed, eyes rolling and lips curved sardonically. “Oh trust me, I know, it gets worse from here.”

His shoulders hunched and he would be lying if he said that didn’t sting, a little. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

She sighed longsufferingly, her posture deflating and back collapsing into the couch. “It’s so…” her hand wheeled in the air, nose wrinkling as she chose her word. “Cheesy .”

Tommy’s jaw set, irritation and surprise tightening his shoulders and the fists tucked under his elbows. “You’re aware that this is romance. I know that’s not your preferred genre for personal reading, but cheesy is kind of part of the landscape. I’ve put up with plenty of condescending criticism about the lack of literary merits to my chosen field, but I have to say I didn’t expect it from you.”

Felicity’s brows raised, the look she gave him cool. “Are you done? Because that is not what I meant. This isn’t romance-genre-hallmark cheesy, it’s just… not good kissing.”

His reflexive genre-defensiveness dropped at that astounding pronouncement and he leaned forward, hands gripping his armrests, face incredulous. “What? What’s wrong with it! You usually like my kissing, you have specifically noted how hot my sexy scenes are.”

Felicity sat up again primly. “And most of the time they are, especially when you’re not falling back on outdated phrasing and boring gender tropes from the eighties and nineties.”

“Outdated…?” Tommy repeated, affronted. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, pushing down his temper. “Okay. Break it down for me. Tell me exactly what’s so wrong about it.”

“Gladly,” Felicity chirped, raising the pages again. “I mean, firstly, the whole thing where all of a sudden Cris is super dominating and aggressive, it kinda really threw me. Especially since Annie is just, like, totally into it? Makes no sense for who you’ve been establishing them to be. It’s just totally cut-and-paste lead-couple dynamics. I’m not trying to say you phoned this one in, but I know damn well you can do better by them.”

Tommy worked his jaw back and forth, trying to mull over her points and not just be annoyed at them. “So… you think their attitudes should be different.”

“Yes ,” Felicity enthused, eyes alight. “Cris has all this trauma and these hangups about his self worth and, like, smoldering-but-wounded intensity, right? So why is he this hypermasculine dominator all of a sudden? And how is that a thing that gets Annie off? Everything you’ve done with her so far, even with you being all deliberately obscure about her personal history, I would have expected her to instantly and firmly rebuff this kind of aggression, not…” her nose wrinkled again, “melt .”

Tommy propped his chin on his interlaced fingers, squinting thoughtfully over her argument. He exhaled heavily, nodding. “Okay, I get where you’re coming from. I guess I was just trying to give the reader what I thought would excite them in a sexy-superhero-romance first kiss, and I sidelined the actual characters in that. So… I guess Cris would be less looming and more…”

He bit at his bottom lip, groping blindly in his head for the word he wanted.

“Sensual?” Felicity offered.

“Sensual,” Tommy agreed. “And maybe even kind of tentative. Not sure if she was feeling what he was feeling.”

“Right.” Felicity nodded excitedly. “Absolutely. Especially since she doesn’t even know who he is under the hood yet, and honestly I wasn’t gonna bring it up now, but it seems way too early for the first kiss to me, like the dynamic should grow more and be more push-pull for a bit?” She lifted her hands and shook her head, cutting off her runaway train of thought. “But that’s a different, plot-and-pacing conversation, and we are discussing the narrative mechanics of kissing.”

Tommy watched her flip through the pages, mentally shelving his questions about her issues with the pacing to focus on one thing at a time. “Speaking of, you said it was bad kissing. The gender dynamics and out of character stuff I get, but how is the actual kissing bad?”

The face Felicity pulled was almost pitying. “When was the last time you enjoyed someone trying to ‘battle’ your tongue for dominance?” She even made air quotes.

Tommy opened his mouth, tilted his head. Directed his eyes towards the ceiling and memory.

“Exactly,” Felicity supplied smugly. “Bad kissing. I mean, literally think about it. Are they surrendering to physical chemistry and an unspoken connection, or are they fighting over possession of a peppermint?”

Tommy grimaced. “Point taken.” Then, skeptically, “Is that all, though?”

The scrunch of her mouth was almost apologetic.

Tommy flopped back in his chair, head rolling as he released a groan. “What else?”

“Their staging is kinda weird?”

He lifted his head and squinted at her. “Staging?”

“You know, the positions they’re in.” She shifted her torso to one side, hands raised in some configuration she seemed to think was a demonstration. “Like, how they’re standing, the ways they’re touching.”

Tommy squinted more squintily, this time at the wall to his left. He tried to reconstruct the scene in question in his head. “But what’s wrong with it? It’s a classic up-against-a-wall scenario. It’s sexy and intense and it has been turning people on in books and movies and TV for...” he gestured vaguely at the air, “ever.”

“Eh,” Felicity shrugged one shoulder, instantly dismissing a staple of steamy kisses everywhere. “They’re in a chilly alley in the middle of the night, and earlier in the chapter you said it rained. And I mean, maybe a nice, plaster-and-paint indoors wall isn’t so bad, but bricks or cement or whatever? Ew, and also ow.”

“Fair,” Tommy conceded. He wheeled his hand at her. “I know you’ve got more, so hit me.”

The lip-tucked smile she shot him was attempting apology and utterly failing. “The standing thing. Like. Cris is what? Six feet tall? And how tall is Annie?”

“Like five-foot-five.”

Felicity stared at the carpet and poked the tip of her tongue out, thinking. “So roughly my height.” Her gaze pulled to the side, the purse of her lips following it. “That’s a really awkward height difference for that position, right? My neck hurts imagining it.”

Tommy frowned, humming. “I don’t know, I think it would work fine.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Is he bending at the knees or something? Is she standing on a box?”

“Okay, I think we’re getting too bogged down in the practical details nobody is reading this for.” He sighed at her arched brows. “Except you.”

“It can’t only be me,” she drawled, unconvinced. “Stuff like that totally takes me out of the story because I do end up bogged down in practical details that aren’t working. I’m trying to imagine the scene, I want to picture it in my head. Like, I should be caught up in envisioning the sexiness, right? Except I’m trying to block it on my mental stage, and all I can picture is his neck at a ninety degree angle and her head tilted straight back like a baby bird receiving a worm.”

“Gross,” Tommy belted, laughing. “Ah, god, you ruined it for me. We have to change it.”

“Well,” she offered, trying to compromise, “she could be wearing very tall heels?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, another hum dragging out in his throat. “This feels like a trap. She was just running before this and I feel like you’ll give me hell if I make her do that in giant-ass stilettos.”

She gave him a corny wink and finger guns, at which he scoffed a laugh. “That’s an excellent point, and you thought of it all on your own.”

“I wrote before you, you know,” he warned playfully. “Whole novels. Many, many novels.”

She sighed theatrically. “It’s truly a wonder how you managed that before being graced with my genius.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and teased, “Ugh, shut up. Back on topic, genius.”

She rubbed her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Yes, the weird kissing pose. Stand up.”

“Why?” He dragged the word out suspiciously.

She stood herself, wiggling her hands at him in a “get up” motion. “Because I’m definitely right, but we should still be sure. You’re how tall?”

He slouched deeper into his chair, but reluctantly admitted, “Five-ten.”

She rolled her eyes at his petulance and waved a hand dismissively. “Close enough. Up.”

He heaved an aggrieved sigh and sat up, which was apparently signal enough for Felicity to take hold of his wrists and drag at his arms as if she could haul all 170 pounds of him out of the chair on her own. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She grinned cheekily as he stood. “Save it for the manuscript.”

“Har,” he deadpanned, lips twitching with the smile he refused to give in to. “Har har.”

“I’ll be here all night,” she shot back in a hokey comedian style.

Tommy snapped his mouth closed at the terrible, terrible sex pun that leapt immediately to mind, keeping it on the inside of his head by sheer willpower as she turned to look at the wall.

She held her hands up as if framing a picture, then turned and put her back against it. “Okay, come here.”

“This is getting a little weird,” he muttered, but did as he was bid.

Frowning like she was trying to solve a puzzle, Felicity took his hands and put them on her waist, then looked down at the inches of carpet between their toes. “Okay, you’re gonna have to step closer.”

He sighed. Shuffled his feet until they were awkwardly close. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she tipped her head this way and that, looking at the angles of her elbows, measuring the tilt of her chin with her hand.

“Okay, bring your head down.” She frowned up at him, but her eyes were on his neck and not at all on his face.

“This is the least sexy kiss positioning I have ever, and I mean ever, been involved in,” he complained.

“Poor baby,” she crooned mockingly, curling her hand around the back of his neck and applying pressure until he lowered his head.

He stopped when he was close enough he could have brushed noses with her if he were being careless. Her eyes were distractingly close, but still not looking at his face. “My eyes are up here.”

“Huh?” She finally met his gaze, and her mouth—wow, so close—twitched with amusement. “So sorry to make you feel objectified.”

“I do,” he insisted teasingly. “Like a literal object. You want me to have a dressmaker’s dummy delivered for you? Might be even more useful.”

“Certainly less sassy,” she laughed, and adjusted his grip on her waist.

“Sassy,” he drawled. “Yes, the adjective that has dogged me all my life.”

Felicity just shook her head, tucking away the left corner of her grin and making a dimple stand out on the right. She looked down at their feet and examined every angle of their position, ending with tipping her head back as she kept her hand on the back of his.

His breath caught as the tip of her nose bumped against his, only briefly. Butterflies erupted stupidly in his stomach.

“See, this is fine,” she murmured, making him blink. “But it’s only five inches.”

Tommy choked, jerking his head to the side and bracing one hand on the wall. Laughter strangled in his throat, sending heat into his cheeks. “Only five inches,” he wheezed.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, humor tingeing it as she let her head fall back with a thump against the wall. “You are—you are the worst, you know what I meant!”

He snickered, straightening a little and smiling down at the flush in her cheeks. “Good to know this is the optimum height difference,” he enunciated with a wink, “for up-against-a-wall kissing.”

She shrugged with her mouth, humming uncertainly. “I’m still not convinced it’s comfortable enough to not be distracting from the sexy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to smirk at her. “It’s been plenty comfortable in my experience.”

“In your—” she narrowed her eyes. “So you’ve done this?”

He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. “Not especially recently, but enough for a decent sample size, and with people of varying heights.”

She huffed, instantly slumping against the wall. “Why didn’t you just say that instead of going through this whole exercise with me?”

“Well,” he answered, light and airy, “I’ve never been the one against the wall. You still might be onto something. I mean, I’ve never had any complaints, but…”

His grin was half leer, and she made an exaggerated face at him. “Maybe because it’s just five inches,” she replied tartly.

“Oh,” he laughed, raising his head. “Oh, really.”

For a second, the response poised on his tongue was an offer to call Oliver for a demonstration, since he was who Tommy had physically modeled his archer vigilante on. But then the image of it, of Felicity against the wall and Oliver crowded up against her, head bent over her and hers tilted up, soured the words in his mouth. He swallowed them.

With a little cough, he straightened and pulled his hand, forgotten and warmed from the heat of her, from her waist. “So I think the results of this experiment are ambiguous enough to go ahead with nixing the wall kiss.”

Felicity blinked at him as he stepped back, hands rubbing against his jeans pockets. She pushed herself off the wall and quickly past him, back to the couch and the abandoned and much maligned pages. “Right. Yes. So something else there, I think.”

She sat down, focused back on the words he had written, flipping from one page to another. “Okay, but come here. Look at this.”

Breathing in deeply, Tommy sat on the couch beside her, leaning to see the print. “What am I looking at?”

“I mean, you did it before too on the part I read out loud, when the kiss starts, but it happens again here. The whole ‘crushing’ or ‘bruising’ kiss thing. It just doesn’t sound sexy. It sounds ow.”

“Hmm.” His eyes traced the lines til he found the words she had mentioned, and now that he read them over again, he had to admit they weren’t especially stirring. “It was supposed to be kind of a heat of the moment kiss, so it seemed like, I don’t know, the right level of intensity?”

She clicked her tongue. “I could see that for a hard, quick ‘oh my god we almost died’ kind of kiss, but it just goes on like that. And that does not read as hot to me.”

He tapped his fingers against his lips in contemplation, brow furrowed. “Sensual,” he murmured, recalling their earlier discussion about Cris’s character. “So, instead kind of a slow, steamy sort of kiss.”

Felicity hummed, but it was a very different hum from the ones before it. “You are definitely good at those,” she said under her breath. Abruptly, her head came up and she turned a defensive look on him. “Writing. At writing those.”

He exhaled a short laugh, tongue curling over his teeth in a helpless grin. “Trust me, I’m good at both.”

She cleared her throat and looked at him over her glasses. “Well, you could stand to prove it here.” She tapped a finger against the paper.

“Well, I intend to,” he responded archly. “So break it down with me. They’ve just run for their lives and swung into this alley, kind of hiding but also finally pretty sure they’re at a safe distance. She backs up against the wall, he stands close in front of her to, like, human shield or whatever—”

“Didn’t we just say no up-against-the-wall?” Felicity interrupted.

Tommy pursed his lips. “Roll with me here.” He waited til she waved her hand in a magnanimous go on gesture. “So they’re up against the wall, breathing hard, and really close. They stop looking over their shoulders and then look at each other.” He waggled his eyebrows just to make her roll her eyes and do that smile-hiding thing. “The chemistry sky rockets. Heat, sparks, bolts of lightning and tingles in their bits, etceteras, etceteras.”

She smothered a laugh with her hand.

“But,” he bit the t off sharply, “instead of a bruisy-ouch battle of the faces, he leans in, drawn in, like a magnet.”

He leaned in closer, to illustrate. Lifting a hand, he let the fingertips hover just by Felicity’s cheek, not touching, just building the suspense. “They’re close enough to feel each other’s breath on their faces, hot, hurried. The surrender is slow, torturous.”

He bent over Felicity, her breath warm on his chin, her eyes fixed—finally—on his. “This way, the first, slightest brush of their lips is so built up it is itself almost orgasmic. An ecstatic explosion when the brush becomes a press, hot and wet and soft as a promise.”

His voice had lowered to a near-whisper, his chest on fire with the thrill of the tease, the unexpected delight of crafting each word and watching them hit his audience in real time, watching her cheeks flush and eyes darken, hearing her breath catch.

They were closer now even than they had been against the wall, his body curved over her, hand hovering by her face, strands of her hair tickling his knuckles. For a second—too many seconds, both more and less than he could count—the words evaporated from his mouth like water under a scorching sun, and they just held like that, no sound replacing his voice in the absence of the room except the push and pull of their breathing.

His gaze dropped to her lips, parted and temptingly cherry-pink.

The desire to close the gap was followed by a mental bucket of water and he stiffened.

This was Felicity. His beta reader and copy editor. His friend, even. She was here as part of her job, not to be coaxed into—into—into whatever in the hell he thought he was doing here.

He swallowed hard and willed his eyes to move from her mouth. “Um.” His voice had dropped into a gravel pit, ragged on his breath. “So how does that s—”

Felicity’s hands snatched at his t-shirt collar and she surged forward, and it was, ironically, a crash as her mouth met his.

But only for a second.

Her lips softened against his immediately and his self-restraint snapped like thread, his own mouth an eager press in return.

She sighed. Her lips parted under his, inviting.

He couldn’t have written it better.

And then she was gone.

She pulled away so abruptly Tommy was left gasping, blinking stupidly with his hands raised and empty.

She scooted backwards like her ass was on wheels, eyes wide and face flushed. They stared at each other, him stunned and confused, her looking almost… guilty as she tucked her lips between her teeth.

“Sorry,” she said finally. “Um. That was just because you are a very good writer and and, um, whew, very , way too good, uh, with words and…” she trailed off, looking away and fanning herself with one hand. “It’s not nice to tease a girl who has only gotten to enjoy,” her hand waved back and forth between them now, “ that vicariously through that very, very good writing for a really, stupidly long time. So. Uh.”

Tommy dropped his hands in his lap, still speechless.

Cringing, Felicity tucked her chin and looked up at him like she was bracing for a blow. “Am I like, super extra fired?”

Sitting up slowly, Tommy swallowed thickly and groped around for his voice. “You don’t actually work for me, you know.”

“Well, okay, technically we kind of both work for the publisher, which I guess makes us more like colleagues, but of the two of us, one of us is very valuable and the other is a highly disposable word-weed-whacker and I am pretty sure your editor would not hesitate to feed me to actual live snakes if the alternative was losing your contract, so…” Felicity frowned at her hands, seeming to suddenly realize that she had been embroidering her nervous run-on in obscure, twisting gestures.

She tucked her hands between her knees and took a fortifying breath before meeting his gaze directly. “I would like to repeat that I am very sorry.”

Tommy blew out an explosive exhale, running a hand over his hair and down his neck, his skin feeling both too hot and too cold. “I have to say this is a first for me. I don’t think anybody has ever kissed me before and then apologized for it like it was a murder.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Do murderers apologize…? Right, totally not the point.”

“Okay, so, first of all,” Tommy started, desperately trying to rally. “You are very not fired. You still don’t work for me and one very nice if very unexpected kiss is absolutely not worth the fines I would have to pay for ending my contract. Which I don’t want to, before you go running away with that one.” He summoned a smile, only slightly stiff around the edges and hung just a little awkwardly. “And you’re still the absolute best sounding board and shit-caller I’ve met in my entire writing career, so please don’t leave me.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, tentative and almost hopeful.

Tommy drove a brutal spike through his ridiculously fluttering heart and softened his smile. “Really. I’m just gonna think of it as really excellent sketch work for a problem scene. Sometimes ‘write what you know’ is bullshit, but sometimes it’s good to get a little practical foundation.”

“Okay.” Felicity released a little nervous laugh. Or maybe it was relieved. “Sketch work. We’ll go with that, then. Considering the alternative is a sexual harassment lawsuit and I don’t actually look that good in orange.”

“I don’t believe that,” Tommy countered, a finger raised, “and I’m pretty sure sexual harassment lawsuits don’t end in federal prison sentences anyway.”

“Well that’s a relief,” she joked. “So, since we solved the problem with, um, the mechanics, should we move on to arguing about pacing, or should we call it a night here?”

He glanced at his watch, more to give him another beat to recover than for any concern about the time. “It’s pretty early yet, so if you’re up for another round of callously deflating my ego, I am prepared to hold back my tears and soldier on.”

“If you’re sure.” Felicity picked up the pages that had at some point dropped to the floor and smiled shyly at him.

It was devastatingly endearing.

With a flourish, he twisted at the waist to snatch a box of Kleenex from the end table and placed it precisely in his lap. “I’m sure. Hit me.”

------

Tip Jar!

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and a grateful shoutout to @andyouweremine and @relevanttosomeone! for reasons ;)

#arrow #arrow fic #tommy merlyn #felicity smoak #flommy #booklovers au #kat prompted me this and then enthusiastically goaded me through all 10.2 pages #so you can thank or blame her as you like

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Joint Custody

Forever ago, I had a give away contest for those who had read my book What Hindered Love. @thislassishooked won the drawing, and FINALLY, here it is: her gift. She asked for a fic with slightly nerdy Killian with a job in science, and a friends to lovers scenario in which they are essentially dating and don’t realize it, but all their friends do. So here you go, @thislassishooked, your story! I hope you like it. Part of the reason it took so long is because I had another story half written, but it sucked and I had to start over. I wanted this to be a great prize for you!

This story is based on a meet cute prompt that I found on a blog somewhere. In trying to find said blog again, I learned that this particular meet-cute is considered by some to be the first one ever used in film in the 1938 movie Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife. I had no idea!

Summary: All Emma wants is a pajama top to wear to bed. All Killian needs is the bottoms. Cue the meet-cute!

Rating: T

Words: A little over 4,000

Also on Ao3

And if you’d like to read my book What Hindered Love, you can get it on Amazon here.

Tagging the usuals: :@snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook@kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree@whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose@shireness-says @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @branlovestowrite @welllpthisishappening @hollyethecurious @stahlop

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that if a woman is wearing a man’s pajama top, they’ve just engaged in some extremely enjoyable activities.

Ok, maybe it’s not a universal truth, but Killian’s fairly certain most men would make that assumption. He would have too, before Emma Swan came into his life.

Emma Swan, who is currently sitting on his couch with her feet in his lap, wearing the pajama shirt that matches the bottoms he’s currently wearing. They’re even blue to match his eyes, but not hers, because Emma’s the one who told him green wasn’t his color the day the two of them met. And because of that (the day they met, not the color of the pajamas), he’s being tortured by her long legs poking out beneath that men’s shirt, stuck frustratingly in the friend zone.

Emma Swan is wearing his pajama top, and there have been no enjoyable activities with her on her back.

He needs a cold shower.

***********************************************************

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that men and women can’t be friends.

Ok, maybe it’s only been universal since When Harry Met Sally, but Emma’s seen it. Ok, she’s never technically seen that movie, but she’s seen clips and memes and gifs, and I mean, everybody knows that movie even if they’ve never seen it. It’s how Emma knows this truth.

It’s also how she knew she could fake an orgasm before actually trying it, but that’s entirely beside the point.

Contrary to what Ruby may say, Emma did not approach Killian Jones in Modern Fashion because he was hot. He was looking at the same pajamas she was, and his build was perfect (to snatch his pajama top, that is). Emma still can’t quite believe she proposed such a thing to a complete stranger, but she was already pissed about the fake pockets on her new pair of jeans and the women’s fashion industry in general, and when Emma was pissed, her common sense sometimes flew out the window.

*********************************************************

It had all started when he arrived in Storybrooke, Maine with his research team and discovered that his wardrobe was completely lacking for New England winters. His nightwear in particular. He and his team had been traveling the Atlantic collecting data on climate change, and their previous stay in Bermuda had evidently spoiled him. He preferred to sleep on board the ship, and his boxers just weren’t cutting it for the cold Maine nights. So he’d headed downtown to the only clothing store in Storybrooke: Modern Fashion. Though “modern” was stretching it - the selection of styles were so dated, it looked like the cast of Stranger Things shopped here.

There was only one rack of men’s pajamas - sets of flannel plaid pants and button down shirts offered in shades of various colors. He was weighing his options, wondering just how many pairs he really needed, when she approached him with a pair of red ones in her hands.

“Do you even need the shirts that go with those?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Pardon me?”

She shook her head, a slight tinge of pink upon her cheeks, and it was then that he was struck by her beauty. Long, golden blonde hair, jade green eyes, and an adorable dimple in her chin. Yet the word “adorable” wasn’t one he would dare use on this woman. There was something about her stance and the edge to her words that let him know she wasn’t one to trifle with.

“I know for a fact men rarely wear those kinds of shirts to bed. You men are like saunas radiating heat, know what I mean?”

“Are you asking me to warm your bed, lass?” he teased with a quirk of his brow.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, and for some reason he found it incredibly arousing. “Oh for the love of God, I am not hitting on you. I have a kid, for God’s sake, I don’t ask strange men to warm my bed.”

“To be fair, you did sort of walk into it, though.”

He was rewarded with a laugh at that, and he had the sudden urge to make her laugh again. Her casual mention of a child also had him glancing at her left finger. No ring. Relief flooded him.

“I guess you’re right. What I’m trying to get at is . . . “ she paused, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, “I want a shirt like this to sleep in, but I don’t want to pay for pants I’m not gonna wear, so I thought -”

“You thought we could share joint custody of the pajamas?” he finished for her with a quirk of his brow.

“Something like that,” she replied tersely.

She shuffled her feet nervously, and he could tell she was regretting approaching him. He leaned against the clothes rack and regarded her with a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows. “Before we negotiate splitting up the pajamas, can I at least have a name?”

She pressed her lips together, and he could practically see the inner debate raging in her mind. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering her his hand. Once her slender fingers were resting in his palm, he leaned closer, and said, “To answer your previous question, no, I was not planning on wearing the tops. I prefer to let my chest hair breath.” He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he pulled away, releasing her hand slowly.

**********************************************

That damn tongue should have been a warning to Emma, but oh no, she had to have her comfortable pajama tops at all costs. Why couldn’t Storybrooke have a decent, well stocked clothing store? This place was right out of Hawkins, Indiana circa 1983.

“Okay then,” Emma replied, ignoring his innuendo completely, “I’ll buy this red pair, you buy a pair, and then we divide them up.”

Thankfully, Killian dropped the flirting and shrugged his consent as he tossed the second pair in his hands back onto the shop display.

“Not those,” Emma quickly put in.

Killian quirked a brow at her. “You get to pick the colors, too?”

Emma sighed. “No, you can get those if you want, but the blue ones would look better on you. Green isn’t your color.”

“But they match your eyes.”

Emma would normally have scoffed at a comment like that, but she was taken aback at his complete sincerity as he leveled his piercing gaze on her. It suddenly felt very warm in the room as she lifted her hair off her neck with one hand for some air and then dropped it back in place.

“The blue matches yours,” she managed to say with a casual air.

“Well okay then,” he replied with a pleased grin upon his face.

She spun on her heel before he could see the red blooming on her cheeks. He fell into step beside her as they approached the counter. Lily Page, whom she had known since kindergarten, was behind the register and by the widening of her eyes, Emma knew she was in trouble. She and Lily had been friends way back in middle school, but had little in common now. That didn’t mean Lily wouldn’t pry into her business, however. That was just Storybrooke, especially when your father was the sheriff.

“You don’t have to go up to the register with me,” she hissed without looking Killian’s way.

“As you wish, love,” he answered in his swoon-worthy British accent.

Not that Emma was swooning, mind you. Smiling, maybe, but not swooning. Princess Bride was her favorite, that’s all. It had nothing to do with his accent, or his blue eyes, or his chest hair that apparently needed to breathe at night.

Killian paid for his pajamas first and left the store with nary a glance Emma’s way. Playing it cool, she was impressed. Or maybe he was too busy flirting with Lily, who thankfully did nothing but glare at him when he winked at her.

Thankfully? Wait - what? Emma didn’t care if Lily liked this guy’s winking or not. He was just a means to her pajama tops.

“So,” Lily said casually, as she folded up the red pajamas, “I saw you talking to that guy over there.”

Emma shrugged, silently cursing the blush that warmed her cheeks. “He just asked what color I thought he should get.”

“Hmm,” Lily said in a voice that clearly hinted that she wasn’t buying it, “he’s quite the flirt, though.”

“I guess,” Emma replied with a noncommittal shrug.

She had never been more relieved to grab her bags and walk away from the register. As the door to Modern Fashion shut behind her, she saw Killian Jones waiting for her on the sidewalk, his own store bag swinging from his right hand, his left slid casually into his jeans pocket. Emma approached him, pulling the red pajama pants out of her bag. He took them, but before he would hand over the blue shirt, he gave Emma a crooked smile and mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“Before I hand over the shirt, we need to discuss an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yes, for joint custody of the pajamas. Naturally.”

Emma groaned as he leaned into her personal space. “We don’t have joint custody - I’m taking the tops and you’re taking the bottoms.”

“Remember Solomon? If you really loved them, you’d let me have them whole and unharmed.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the mothers who argued over the baby, and King Solomon knew the real mother would give the baby up to keep him safe?”

“You seriously just made a Bible reference over pajamas?”

Killian gave her a lopsided grin that absolutely did not remind her of Han Solo. “Ok, how about a pop culture reference? His and hers kids.”

Emma bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling at his ridiculousness. “Like Parent

Trap?” God, how many pop culture references were cramming her brain today? She was turning into a Gilmore girl. Seriously, another one?

“Aye,” Killian said, “but the classic Hayley Mills one, not the Lindsey Lohan one,”

“I like the Lindsey Lohan one.”

He quirked a brow at her and sauntered closer. “Have you ever even seen the original?”

“Well . . . no.” She was trying really hard not to take a step back or, you know, swoon or something.

“Ah! Then we really must remedy that. Our first act sharing joint custody of the pajamas -”

“Quit saying joint custody.”

“As I was saying - joint custody of the pajamas means we must have a movie night. A Hayley Mills movie night. You know, for visitation.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I had a kid?”

“Bring him along!”

Emma blinked. That wasn’t the normal response she got from men when they found out she was a mom. “I don’t let men I just met hang out with my son.”

Killian nodded, all trace of flirting gone. “Of course, lass, I apologize. Enjoy your pajamas.”

He flashed her another charming smile, handed her the blue pajama tops, then turned and sauntered away. She was simultaneously touched at the way he had backed off when concern for her child came into play and strangely disappointed. At any rate, that should have been it, but Storybrooke was a small town . . .

*********************************************************

Killian first ran into her again at the drug store. His immune system had gotten used to the Florida weather too, apparently, and he had a minor cold. He turned down the cough syrup aisle, and there she was, buying cough syrup for her son. They’d chatted, him teasingly asking how the pajamas were doing. Then he’d asked about the cough syrup, and her brow had furrowed as she told him her lad - Henry - was sick. He’d wished the boy well, and they had parted ways, but he’d thought of the exchange and the motherly concern upon her face for far longer.

The second time he ran into her he’d discovered her profession. Killian had been irate when he found the beach littered with beer cans and other refuse one Sunday morning and had called the local police. His heart stuttered in his chest when she stepped out of the squad car. She had been professional, assuring him that they would try their best to discover who had littered the beach and fine them accordingly. Yet he had still managed to discover a bit more about her - that her father was the sheriff and that she had returned home to be his deputy largely because of Henry. Reading between the lines, he surmised that Henry’s father had never been in the picture. Emma Swan was a beautiful mystery that intrigued him the more he was around her.

The third time he saw her, he had the honor of finally meeting Henry. The entire time he had imagined a boy of five or six, and was taken aback to meet a lad of ten instead. Another piece of the Emma Swan puzzle fell into place as he realized how young she must have been when he was born. The way she guarded herself made much more sense.

He came into Granny’s diner to pick up his lunch order, and when he turned to leave, the boy literally ran into him.

“Henry!” Emma exclaimed. “Slow down, kid!”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy muttered sheepishly.

“No harm done,” Killian replied with a grin. He looked up at Emma. “Good to see you again, Swan.”

She rewarded him with a smile.

“Are you from England?” Henry asked. “You sound like you go to Hogwarts or have been to Narnia.”

Killian grinned broadly at the boy. “Or I’ve been to Neverland.”

“Or Wonderland,” the boy continued with a huge smile on his face.

Killian cocked his head. “Or maybe I’ve jumped into a chalk drawing or stolen from the rich to give to the poor.”

Henry laughed. “Your country got all the best stories.”

“I have to agree with you there, though you Yanks did get cowboys and Huck Finn and every character ever played by Harrison Ford.”

“Okay you two nerds,” Emma interrupted with a roll of her eyes and affection in her voice, “I’m sure Killian wants to get back to his boat and eat his lunch.”

“You live on a boat?” Henry exclaimed.

“A ship,” Killian corrected, wagging his finger at Emma, “a research ship.”

“Cool!”

“Calm down, kid,” Emma told him, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “like I said, he’s probably in a hurry.”

“Not at all, Swan,” Killian corrected, “and I love to talk about the ocean and all its mysteries.” He directed the last sentence at the lad.

“Can you stay and eat lunch with us?” Henry asked, then turned to Emma. “Please mom, can he?”

Emma shrugged. “If he wants to.”

“Do you?” Henry asked Killian, suddenly hesitant.

“Lunch with the two of you would be vastly better than alone on my ship.”

That lunch did two things for Killian. For one, Henry Swan claimed a part of his heart that he hadn’t even known had been neglected. It also was the beginning of his movie nights with the Swans. It started with Killian asking Emma if she had seen the Hayley Mills Parent Trap yet, which developed into a debate with Henry about whether or not the classic was always better than the remake. Naturally, he and Henry decided that the only way to solve their impasse was to experiment, so that night he showed up at Emma’s apartment where Henry had both versions of Parent Trap ready to stream on their television. It became somewhat of a tradition. Henry and Emma begrudgingly admitted that Hayley Mills was better at the twin swapping than Lindey Lohan. However, Killian had to admit that sometimes the remake was better after their viewing of both versions of Hairspray.

Movie nights, naturally, included dinner (pizza when Emma was in charge of the food, grilled fresh caught fish when it was Killian’s turn), but at some point they turned into all day events. Sometimes they would go to the park while other times Killian would take them out sailing. Emma and Henry both became a natural part of Killian’s life before he even realized it was happening.

He also fell in love with Emma Swan without realizing it. Slowly, over time, they began to spend time together without Henry. And sometimes, like tonight, they would have a movie night just the two of them after Henry was in bed.

And that’s how he got here, sexually frustrated with Emma in one of those damn pajama tops that showed off almost all of her legs. The light of the television flickered over her face, highlighting her cheekbones and playing across her golden hair.

“Emma,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” she smiled at him, and the fear of losing that smile almost made him chicken out. Almost

“I can’t do this anymore.”

There went the smile. Her brow furrowed and she pulled her feet quickly out of Killian’s lap, tucking them beneath her instead.

“What are you talking about?”

Killian sighed and ran his hand down his face. He slid across the couch until their thighs were pressed together, and he took it as a small victory when she didn’t move away. His eyes scanned her face, falling to land on her lips.

“This just friends thing.” His breath was ragged now. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Emma, and I can’t . . . “

His voice trailed off as he leaned closer, his nose brushing hers.

“Can’t what?” she asked breathlessly. He took that as a small victory too.

“I want more.”

“What about Henry?”

“I care about Henry, too. I’m in this for the long haul, Emma.”

They were breathing the same air now, their foreheads pressed together. Killian slanted his lips over hers and exulted when she melted against him, their bodies molding together as they slid against the cushions of the couch to a horizontal position. His tongue slid against hers, one hand tangled in her hair and the other sliding up the length of her bare leg.

“Emma,” he moaned as he broke away to trail kisses down her neck.

“I’m . . . we . . . “ Emma’s words were incoherent and he smiled against her collarbone. He felt her swallow. “Killian,” she finally managed to say in a normal voice as she pushed against his chest and slid back to a seated position. He blinked at her in confusion.

“Emma?”

“You need to go. Now.”

He reached out for her, but she rose from the couch, wrapping herself in a throw blanket.

“Let’s talk about this, love.”

Emma hugged the blanket tighter around herself as she shook her head. “I should have been more careful. This can’t happen Killian.”

He rose and took a step towards her, but she took three steps back. “Why not? This isn’t a casual thing for me, Emma, believe me.”

Emma bit her lower lip as her eyes welled with tears. “I know that. And that’s why I . . . “ she shook her head again. “Please,” she whispered, “just go.”

Killian sighed in defeat. “As you wish.”

**************************************************************

“And you just kicked him out?”

Emma winced because Ruby was practically shouting in the middle of Granny’s. “Could you keep your voice down?”

“Though it is a legitimate question,” Regina snarked before taking a bite of her salad.

“I didn’t kick him out! I asked him to leave, there’s a difference.”

“You had the man horizontal on your couch, and you didn’t take advantage of it?”

“Ruby!” Emma’s face burned red.

“Again, a legitimate question,” Regina put in.

Emma rubbed her face wearily. “First of all, I can’t be making out on my couch. I’ve got a kid!”

“No, Emma,” Regina told her, lifting one finger in the air with way too much authority. There was a reason Emma’s dad jokingly called her queen mayor. “Stop using Henry as an excuse. If anyone has proven himself where Henry is concerned its Killian.”

“But that’s just it!” Emma argued. “If Killian and I get involved, Henry is the one who will get hurt when it ends.”

Ruby and Regina glanced at each other and then burst out laughing. Emma scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s so funny?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Emma, are you that dense? You and Killian already are involved.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. “It isn’t like that with him.”

“Let’s look at the evidence,” Regina said, ticking each one off on her finger. “You spend all your free time together. You talk about him constantly. He hangs out with your son. You text each other all day long. You, my friend, have a boyfriend whether you want to admit it or not.”

“But,” Emma sputtered, “we don’t . . . I mean we haven’t . . . “

“Yeah,” Ruby teased, “and I don’t get that at all. Why haven’t you?”

“Because she’s scared,” Regina answered for her.

“No I’m not! I’m just smart.” Emma argued. “I have to be cautious. I’m a single mom.”

“Or,” Ruby said softly, placing a hand over Emma’s, “Neal hurt you so badly you don’t want to risk your heart again.”

Emma sagged in the booth. “Maybe,” she admitted softly, “which is exactly why Killian and I make no sense.”

Regina shook her head. “No, you’re not making any sense. You two are perfect together.”

“What difference does that make when he’s just going to leave?”

Ruby furrowed her brow. “I can’t see him doing that at all.”

“I already know he will! It’s his job! Don’t you two see? He’s collecting marine research. He doesn’t put down roots.”

Regina threw her head back and laughed again. It was beginning to get on Emma’s nerves.

“My god, Emma, do you and lover boy even talk?”

“Of course we talk, according to you two, we talk too much and not enough . . . you know . . . “

Regina shook her head. “Emma, Killian’s about to finish his research. Then he can analyze it and write up his results anywhere he wants.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, what? How would you know anything about it?”

“He and Robin have become good friends. Killian even told Robin that he likes Storybrooke and can see a future here.”

“Let me guess,” Ruby said with a sing-song voice and a teasing smile, “with Emma and Henry.”

Emma felt slightly dizzy and her heartbeat stuttered. “I . . . I’ve got to go . . . “ she muttered as she jumped up from the booth.

**********************************************************

There was a pounding on the door to Killian ‘s quarters on his research ship. His team had already headed their separate ways now that all the data was collected, so Killian was curious who would be knocking shortly after lunch on a weekday. He opened the door, and his heart practically stopped when he saw Emma standing there, her cheeks flushed and a sheepish grin lifting her lips. She twisted her beanie nervously in her hands.

“Is it true?” she asked him.

“Um,” Killian shook his head, “is what true?”

“You want to put down roots here in Storybrooke?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Aye, I do.”

Emma’s eyes searched his. “Why here? I mean, what reason would you have to stay?”

“Oh Emma,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek, “don’t you know? It’s you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “Good,” she said with a sparkle in her tear filled eyes. Then she slid her hand around his neck and dug her fingers into the ends of his hair. With agonizing slowness, she pulled his lips down to hers.

They were home.

Six Months Later . . .

Killian shivered as Emma hooked her toes around the hem of his pajama pants and slid her ice cold feet up his leg. Her arm came around his bare chest as she pulled herself flush against him.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled against his upper back.

He grinned as he turned in her embrace. “Well, you did once ask me to warm your bed, love.”

She smirked as he fiddled with the buttons of her pajama top, which matched the pants he wore.

“I asked nothing of the sort.”

Killian nuzzled his nose into her collarbone and grinned as she shivered. “That’s the way I remember it,” he mumbled against her skin as he edged her shirt open farther. He slipped another button open. “You don’t actually need this top, do you?”

As the sun rose higher over Storybrooke, Mrs. Jones’s pajama top and Mr. Jones’s pajama bottoms ended up discarded on the floor.

Reunited at last.

#cs ff #cs ff modern au #meet-cute #friends to lovers #don't know they are dating #but everyone else does #give away #for thislassishooked

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