#but as usual his face is the bane of my existence so eh

[sweetestdesire]

STUBBORN PRIDE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes is too stubborn to let Fem!Reader peacefully sleep on the couch.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and never seemed to take things seriously and he never really listened to a word anyone said. Everything always went in one ear and out the other. Like when Y/N told him she’d be on the couch for the night so she could have space, for example. It seemed space was not a word in Jack’s dictionary, because he strolled into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune.

Y/N glared at him from her spot on the couch, watching as he stopped a few feet before her. There was a smooth grin on his face, almost like he had plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masked the true nature of his feelings as he hid them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“Is there room for one more?”

“No.” Y/N said bluntly, promptly turning away to face her back to him. She didn’t have to look back to know his face was curled into that pout of his, the dangerous one that did too good of a job of convincing her to give him his way.

“Okay, fine.” Jack huffed, and then she heard the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making her itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch.

Y/N succeeded at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity got the better of her and she swallowed her pride and took a quick look. sure enough, he laid curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stared up at her with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, and he stared at her like she’d asked a silly question, and maybe she had. Being hard to get rid of had always been Jack’s specialty, and she should’ve known better by now that retiring to the couch was never enough to retire from him.

"I’m going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?" Jack said like it was obvious. She almost smacked him with her pillow for his tone, but she had half a mind not to. It was the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it wasn’t her problem he forgot the single most important thing when it came to sleeping.

"Well, why here?" Y/N scowled, making him shrug as he settled his hands behind his head and looked up to the ceiling.

"Seems like a good spot to sleep if you ask me.” He said casually. “Nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, and the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. Sounds like the perfect place, eh? And if I get bored, we even have a TV.”

"I let you have the bed, you idiot.” She pursed her lips.

"Who needs a bed when I can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet, pretty girl?”

Y/N cut him off before he could finish, feeling the last possible vein she could preserve while dating a man like Jack Hughes pop. "Well, then I’m going to use the bed if you won’t.” She sat up, grabbing her pillow and blanket.

And because he’s Jack Hughes, the bane of her existence and the sole cause of all her headaches, he sat up, too. "Good idea, baby. Let’s go.”

"No. You stay here, and I’ll take the bed."

"Okay.” Jack hummed, still not making any moves to lay back down.

Y/N quickly realized this wasn’t a battle she could easily win with him and she rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as she glared down at him. Jack looked up at her with that same innocent look, those same wide eyes that blinked up at her like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"You do realize I’m not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" Y/N asked dryly.

Jack grinned, that familiar glint in his eyes that always meant trouble. “Well, I never said anything about taking the bed, now did I?”

"Jack, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”

"It’s technically not the bed.” He insisted. “All you said is you're not sleeping with me. You never said anything about near me."

"Okay, I don't want to sleep near you.” She scowled.

"Nuh-uh, no way.” He shook his head. “You can't add rules now. It’s far too late."

"Jack, I swear to fucking God.”

"So, what'll it be? Bed or couch?"

"I hate you.” Y/N grumbled, settling back down on the cushions of their living room couch, back once more facing him. She could hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he spoke up again.

"Can I use your blanket? I’m cold."

"No."

"C’mon, just toss half of it over the edge, I’ll scoot over. We can make it work somehow.”

"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" Y/N snapped as she sat up, glaring down at him once more.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. He made her eyes soften before she could help it as they grazed over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. He made her anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard she tried to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. He made her forget they were arguing and that she should be mad when she noticed the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

So, Y/N blinked as she watched him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shook his head and offered her a small, innocent smile, one that told her he loved her, that he wasn’t mad, and that he'd wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for her as long as he needed to.

"No.” Jack chuckled. “No, I’d never want to make you mad. You’re scary when you get mad.”

"That’s rich, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a big, strong hockey player.” Y/N muttered, making him laugh softly. And she wasn’t mad anymore, not as much as she was just a bit ago. Maybe it was because she loved him too, even despite the way he made her veins pop, and her patience thin, and her head ache with that aggravating personality of his. Maybe that's what love was, when even the bad and the ugly were part of the good.

"Behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.” He cheekily remarked, his grin never fading.

"Just come here.” Y/N groaned, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even waste a single moment as if he'd been expecting it all this time as he climbed in beside her and pulled her into his chest. It was cramped and slightly uncomfortable as her legs dangled over the edge and her pillow barely fit under both of their heads, but his body was warm and his arms held her tight and she could faintly make out the thrum of his heart against her body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not if it was with Jack.

"Did you miss me too much?" Jack wriggled his eyebrows, pouting when she shoved his face away as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You still haven't earned kisses back yet.” Y/N grinned. “Goodnight, Jack."

"But I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss.” Jack pouted, softly nudging her with his shoulder.

"I love you.” Y/N cut him off with a giggle. Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with, but she thought that she won this time.

[casuallyawkardd]

Dating Hobie Brown

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

Summary: My personal headcannon of what it would be like dating Hobie Brown. Includes how you met, got together and etc. 

Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, death and violence

A/N: Idk how old Hobie actually is, but I always pictured he was like nineteen so don’t @ me when the NSFW comes out. Also I didn’t mean for it to come out as sad as it did?? So sorry I guess 

Meeting

Your mother is the captain of the police force. Growing up, it was just the two of you and because of this your mother made sure to raise you right. Making sure you said your ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s, got good grades in school, didn’t get involved with the wrong crowd, etc. etc. As you got older, you learned just how hard your mom worked to make sure you had a good childhood, a good life, and so you made sure to do as you were told. To be her perfect, little baby. 

However, it was hard to make sure you grew up in a ‘good’ environment the older you got. Especially when you began to understand that not everyone saw your mom as the hero you saw her as. The political environment of London was unstable, protests and riots becoming more and more frequent. Sure, you agreed that the government was corrupted and people abused the power they were given, but when you started seeing signs that trash talked the captain of the police force, you couldn’t help but take it personally. Yeah, there were some bad people out there, but your mother was not one of them. 

Being the kid of the police captain makes you a walking target and you find that out the hard way. One night, as you’re walking home from one of your uni’s night classes, some extremists decide to back you into the nearest alley. They weren’t like the usual protestors who would shout at you while you walked down the street, these were the kind that were in it for the rioting. More about making a scene than supporting a cause, practically looking for an excuse to do some damage. 

You have no intention of making it easy for them, mama didn’t raise no bitch. They shove you and you shove back even harder. They get in your face to spit insults, you scream some right back. It’s a back and forth that goes downhill quickly, four against one being painfully unfair odds. 

Before you get your ass kicked, your savior arrives. You recognize him immediately; the ripped jeans, leather jacket, the red mask with a spiked mohawk, you’re taken aback as you watch Spider-Man pummel your antagonizers and yell at them to ‘fuck off!’ Now it’s just the two of you in the dark alley and you don’t know how to feel. On one hand, he did just save you from getting your teeth knocked in. On the other, the guy was the bane of your mother’s existence, practically the ringmaster of every protest and riot in London that makes her lose sleep at night. 

”You’re the captain’s kid, ain’tcha?”

“Can’t let a lovely face like yours get broken, eh?”

He’s...charming, his fingers gently grasping your chin as he assesses the damage. Even offers to take you home, which he doesn’t even give you the chance to say yes or no to as he’s already walking you down the street. While there’s a certain allure to him, he’s also a thorn in your side. Teasing you, making up antagonizing nicknames, by the time you make it to your apartment building you’re sure he’s just doing it to spite you. For once, you go against what your mother taught you and don’t thank him as you slam the window shut.

“What? No kiss goodnight?”

Meeting...Again

When you two cross paths again, it’s not when he’s Spider-Man. One of your friends from your creative writing class drags you out to the pub. Saying it was a crime you had been eighteen years old for six months and had yet to have your first drink. The bar is loud, filled with the type of people your mother would kill you for hanging out with. It seems your friend had neglected to tell you this particular venue was a dive bar. A dive bar that was frequented by bikers and freedom fighters. 

You don’t notice him, but Hobie recognizes you instantly; a smirk making its way onto his face as he strolls over. You’re tucked into the corner of the bar quietly sipping on some drinks, your friend having long since ditched you to talk to someone who caught her eye.

“Hiding away are you, love?”

The voice is familiar, making you turn to face him instantly. Where you’ve heard it is a little trickier to place. One quick up and down of the man now leaning against the bar has you stiffening. He’s practically the definition of what your mother has tried to protect you from for years, telling you that people that looked like him were bad news. Yet it seems your attempts to dissuade him are futile, in fact Hobie almost seems to enjoy the banter. He says one thing, you turn your nose up at it. He responds to your insults with vaguely flirty comments and chuckles when you go hot under the collar. 

He finally gets you to crack when he brings up music. It’s your passion, your life, hell it’s what got you a scholarship to even get into uni in the first place; tuition being well out of your budget. While it’s no surprise your tastes in music differ, it’s more about how he talks about music. You learn he’s a musician too, that he believes it’s not just about ‘finding a good beat’; how music can touch the soul if done just right. That it’s something that can unite the unlikeliest people.

It surprises you, in a good way. Has you thinking there’s maybe more to him than meets the eye. You say as much, Hobie teasing you about how ‘you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover’, which has you rolling your eyes. He’s not wrong though, the more he talks the more you want to listen. Not just about music, but the little details of his past, his beliefs, ideals and even his little quirks that he brings up organically in the conversation. What’s even better is how he matches your interest with his own, pulling out every little detail about yourself he can. 

You don’t realize it’s gotten late, a quick glance at your phone showing you had missed a concerning amount of calls and texts from your mum. Drunkenly, you stand and stagger, the drinks you had been sipping on, that Hobie so generously kept buying you, starting to pack a punch. Large hands hold you steady, Hobie offering to walk you home. You tell him no, the slur of the word causing him to guide you out of the pub regardless. 

You never thought walking home from a bar could be this fun. The fuzzy feeling in your head making you giggle and stumble down the path, Hobie following along and indulging you and your drunken bantering. When you do finally get home, you dread the idea of encountering your mother in your intoxicated state. Not to mention the fact you were accompanied with a ‘ ‘delinquent’ ’, your mother’s words not yours, like Hobie. The final decision is to crawl through your bedroom window, demanding Hobie give you a lift. The suggestion has him grinning ear to ear, tall stature lowering into a crouch and longer finger intertwining to give you a step.

“So there’s a little rebel in you after all, eh?”

Getting Together + “Dating”

The two of you becoming an item happens before you even realize it. You had been going about things under the guise of friendship, that is until one of his friends brings it up. A harmless little comment really, telling you that your ‘little boy toy’ was causing a ruckus yet again and might need someone to reel him in. It perplexes you, said friend beginning to tease you for playing coy. When you finally do fetch Hobie and apologize on his behalf, they give you a knowing look as you and your ‘boy toy’ head out for the evening. 

Suddenly you’re very aware of the way he grabs your hand when guiding you through a crowded room. Fingers laced with yours for a better grip and using his body to shove people aside to give you a clear path. The gentle kisses on your forehead when he tells you goodnight or on your knuckles when he’s trying to apologize for something. How his forehead touches yours when you listen to one of his favorite cassette tapes, your eyes closed to focus on the music while he watches you softly mouth the words to the song. The proud look he gets on his face whenever you do something out of your comfort zone, followed by him saying ‘I told you so’ when you end up liking it. 

“Nah mate, I don’t do labels.”

Is his response when someone flat out calls him your boyfriend. He says it simply, bluntly and you try to deny the sting in your chest when he does. And yet you hold your tongue, suppressing your comments with the bitter taste of beer. The routine you’ve begun now feels full of falsehoods. Spending the day between home and uni classes to keep up appearances as the ‘perfect child’; evenings at small pubs and Hobie’s flat where you finally get to unwind and take a break. What were his intentions? Was he like this with other people? Is what the two of you have not as special as you had thought?

The thoughts swirl through your head as you begin your walk home from the pub, yet another part of your new routine. Although this time, rather than Hobie and you walking side by side, air filled with chatter and quieted laughter, tonight he’s a few paces behind you. Not by choice, rather you seem to be refusing to speak to him, picking up the pace whenever he tries to match your stride. Could he easily close the distance with his long stride? Sure, but he knows when to not push your boundaries. 

He’s had enough by the time you arrive at your apartment building, a familiar, large hand wrapping around your forearm and pulling you to him. He’s not mad, barely even upset, just confused why you’re acting so differently. Usually you liked his calm demeanor, it seemed to balance out your high strung one, but right now it infuriates you. How does he not get it? Swerving the goodnight kiss, you head up to your flat to put this night behind you.

 After about a week of you declining invites and giving him the cold shoulder, Hobie decides to come to you. He tries to be respectful, giving you space for reasons he has yet to understand, but that doesn’t mean he can’t watch you. It’s not creepy...he’s just making sure you get home safe, watching from the building across the street from your usual route home...it’s not weird, right? Right? 

He can’t stand it, shooting a web and swinging to land gracefully in front of you. Or he tries to, his boot got caught on the concrete and he had to stumble to a stop. Since when has he been this clumsy? You stand dumbfounded, not recognizing him when he’s in his Spider-Man suit. He doesn’t even remember he’s in the stupid thing until he’s halfway through his rantings; talking about how ‘uncool’ it is to be avoiding him and how he thought of you as more mature than this. That he can’t fix the problem unless you tell him the problem.

After a moment of awkward silence, the look of recognition flashes across your face and he’s ushering you into the nearest alley before you can blurt out his secret identity. Stuck between Hobie and the brick wall, you’re forced to fess up to why you’ve been so distant, Hobie refusing to budge until you do. You can’t even look him in the eye as you spill every thought you’ve had over the last week. Talking about how you have feelings for him, but hate him for making you like him. How you don’t care if he feels the same, but you do care that he acts like he feels the same. That it’s not fair he gets to decide what can and can’t be a label and if he’s not your boyfriend then what is he? That it-

Hobie cuts you off as he leans in, lips pressing tenderly against yours. You hesitate before leaning into it, his warmth surrounds you as his arms move to wrap around your back. You realize you missed his touch, the contrast between the coolness of his piercing and the comfort of his lips on your skin. When he pulls away, he continues to hold you close, hand coming up to hold your face, a calloused thumb stroking your cheekbone. 

“I’m not into putting a label on things, but I’m into....this. I like what this is. I don’t need a stupid label to tell everyone I like you and you like me cuz the only people who need to know are you and me. Innit that right, love?”

You point out that while it’s touching he feels that way, there might be a hole or two in his idea. The two of you decide to compromise so the next time someone asks, you tell people you’re ‘exclusive’. It’s not a label, it’s an adjective, totally different.

Future

You two met before the spiderverse, before Hobie even knew what a canon event was. If he had, he might’ve prevented his next one. Your mother’s death came during a flurry of incidents. For you, it was her finding out about Hobie. As expected, she was furious when she found the two of you saying your goodbyes through your bedroom window. The fight that ensued between you and her was monstrous . You’d always been a good kid, her perfect, little angel. You’d grown to hate that word. Perfect. What’s the point in being perfect if you can’t live your life? Have a little fun?

She blames Hobie for your change in tune, forbidding you from ever seeing him again. The bubble of anger swelling in your chest bursts and you tell her ‘no’ for the first time. Scream it at her actually. That you’d done everything she asked for your whole life and that you weren’t going to give up the one thing you did for yourself. That it wasn’t a crime to like someone like Hobie, that there was more to him if she would just give him a chance. Your mother refuses to listen, dismissing you to go to your room. Reluctantly you comply, but not without shouting a final ‘I hate you!’ as you slam the door. 

Hobie, while frazzled by the little bit of the argument he’d witnessed, has his own problems brewing. He’s caught wind of Kingpin, the rumor being that he’s working with Osborn once again. This time, he’s gotten his slimy hands on some illegal weapons that’ll give the police force the upper hand against the freedom fighters. He’s on the scene, but so is your mother, who had left after your fight when she got tipped off. Hobie can see she’s alone, most likely being too impatient for backup like she usually is. 

Everything happens too quickly, hissing whispers between him and her as he tries to tell her to ‘bugger off’, her saying she’s not going to let some kid get hurt while playing hero. Huh, she’s never called him a hero before. Hobie doesn’t get to dwell on the thought before they’re spotted, bullets and gun powder filling the night air. Some webbing takes care of Kingpin’s goons, but the bastard is able to get away as usual, but not without delivering the final shot. 

The eyes of Hobie’s spidersuit widen when he sees the blood leaking down the front of your mother’s uniform, instincts drawing him to her side to help her lie down. Emotions stir uncomfortably inside his chest, this is a cop; not just any cop, but the leader of the swine that call themselves the defenders of the people. And yet he’s applying pressure to the wound, holding off the inevitable because right now she isn’t the captain of the police force, she’s a mother. Your mother. 

Her last words are ingrained in his mind, ‘My baby...I can’t leave my baby.’

You’re confused when you see him in your living room, quietly but urgently saying that he has to go before your mother catches him, unaware she’s not even home. That she wouldn’t be coming back home. Routine and structure is embedded in your being, the idea of your mother’s death coming ‘too soon’ or that ‘you wouldn’t get to say goodbye’ have never crossed your mind. And yet it’s your reality. Your mother doesn’t get to retire and die of old age and the last words you said to her were ‘I hate you.’

“She knows you don’t.”

Hobie tries to comfort you, holding you close despite your resistance. In all honesty, you don’t know if you want to be left alone or never want him to let you go, so you settle for what he has to offer. Hobie doesn’t say much else, partly because he doesn’t know what to say and partly because he thinks all he can do right now is hold you and let your tears soak the front of his suit. 

As morbid as it may sound, your mother’s death came at a convenient time. Your first year of uni had wrapped up the week before, so it hurts less to withdraw. At least you were able to wrap up one year. Whether or not you’ll go back isn’t on your mind, but deep down you know you will. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted. 

You’re grateful for the support system you have, a few uni friends who still keep in touch after you leave and the friends you made through Hobie. While their ‘I’m sorry for your loss’s and ‘I’m here for you’s are comforting, Hobie is the one who’s truly there for you. 

Hobie’s the one who lets you move in with him when you can’t stand being at home, everything there reminding you of her. Hobie’s the one who brings you your meals when you forget to eat, the water you have yet to drink. Hobie’s the one who asks you to play a song he likes, his excuse being that he likes it better when you play it, but you both know it’s his way of making sure you don’t abandon your passions. Hobie’s the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep to home videos, tucking you in and placing the baby blanket your mother made you on top. Hobie’s the one that heals you, even if it’s only a little. Even if there’s still more of you to make better. 

In terms of marriage and kids, they aren’t things either of you talk about. You’re young, you have a lot more ahead of you. Hobie reminded you of that. That sometimes life doesn’t follow a ‘routine’, that sometimes it’s better to live day by day with the ones you love. 

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @graysonshaven​ @qiaipia​ @3zae-zae3​ @thedevax @erissco​ 

[storfulsten]

sup homie

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

.

Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla​ for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window. 

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”,  just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest. 

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

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

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo. 

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece. 

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room. 

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day." 

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar. 

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking." 

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?" 

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.  

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece. 

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye. 

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground. 

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor. 

"Funny you should say that…" 

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder. 

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed. 

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily. 

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass. 

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room. 

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

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

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood. 

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining. 

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit. 

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day. 

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself. 

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?” 

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous. 

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent. 

“I believe it’s my turn.” 

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head. 

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt. 

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around 

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down 

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms. 

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil. 

it will steal your heart tonight 

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance. 

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock. 

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line. 

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you. 

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song. 

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes." 

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily. 

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment. 

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction. 

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest. 

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation. 

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer. 

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice. 

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern. 

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything. 

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie." 

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes. 

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“ 

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving. 

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute. 

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve. 

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took. 

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you. 

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave. 

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight. 

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze. 

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt. 

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused. 

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?" 

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

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

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?" 

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed. 

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

[writings-of-dumpy]

Rewrite the Stars: George Weasley x Reader

A/N: I had a nightmare I needed to process so here this is. WARNING: THIS STORY IS HEAVY. THERE IS CHILD ABUSE AND MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. IF THESE TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FIC.

Summary: Y/N is Draco’s older sister who has never fit in with the Malfoy family and befriends the Weasley Twins.

George sat down in potions class next to Fred. It was their first class in their first year at Hogwarts and the two of them already had a fair idea about what this class would be like, and they weren't looking forward to it. Next to him sat a girl wearing a Slytherin uniform. He thought that odd because Gryffindors and Slytherins don't usually sit next to each other in any class. In fact their closest proximity was in the Great Hall with Gryffindor table sandwiched between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. He didn't spend too much time looking at her, though, just long enough to make a friendly wave at her, which she returned with a small smile.

“You are to work on a potion to cure boils in your groups of three. Hopefully with three sets of eyes watching, one of them will have a brain behind it,” Snape drawled on. Geroge turned to the girl next to him and hoped for the best. He heard that Slytherins had a reputation for being truly awful, but he didn't want to make any assumptions. He did, after all, get a smile out of her.

“Hi there, I'm Geroge Weasley, this is my brother Fred,” George said as he flipped through his book to find the recipe. He noticed that she had already started to put ingredients together.

“Hi... I'm Y/N,” she said in a shy voice and sent them both a small and warm smile.

“No last name, eh?” Fred inquired and handed her the next ingredient.

“Erm... I'd rather not say...”

“Miss Malfoy...” Snape said from behind her. George's eyes went wide and he saw Y/N's face cringe and she looked up at Snape.

“Yes, Professor?” she responded. George and Fred shared an alarmed look. They knew who the Malfoys were—Lucius Malfoy had been the bane of their father's existence for quite a while, and this appeared to be his eldest daughter.

“I expect great things from you. Give your father my best,” Snape said lowly as if his words were more of a warning than encouragement.

“I will, Professor,” Y/N said and then looked at the twins apologetically. George thought she was going to cry in front of them and decided immediately that she was nothing like her father. He wanted to give her a chance.

“I'm s—”

“Don't even think about it, Y/N. Looks like it's ready to take off the heat,” Fred said with a kind smile. Y/N smiled once again, but wider this time, and took the cauldron off the flame, then added the quills.

At the end of class, a couple of Slytherin boys started laughing and pointing at Fred and George. They rolled their eyes and were perfectly happy ignoring them.

“Better fetch an owl to send those cauldrons back home, Weasleys! Your mum's gotta take a bath,” one of them jeered.

Before George could retort, Y/N—who was stood closer to them than George—spoke up.

“Back off, you ass. Or I'll stuff your inflated head into a cauldron until your skull pops,” Y/N threatened.

The boys looked dumbfounded and George was sure that if Y/N had a different last name, those boys would have pummeled her.  She walked off past them all and out of the dungeons. Fred and George followed quickly behind her with impressed smiles on their faces.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N, wait up!” Fred called after her. She turned around and looked at them and waited for them to catch up.

“Thank you for that,” George said with a smile.

“Don't mention it. Honestly, it's the least I could do... I wish... well...” Y/N said with a vague gesture. George knew what she meant and nodded his head. He wondered why she was put in Slytherin.

In their second year, George was surprised and pleased to find that Y/N was a chaser for the Slytherin team, and had snuck out a couple times to watch her practice. The team was hard on her, being the only girl, but she seemed to take it well. Fred and George did their best to not directly hit her with bludgers. After their first game, George made a point to find Y/N. It was nearly dusk by the time he saw her walking back to the Slytherin dorms alone.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after her. He was still in his uniform as was she, but she had at least taken her knee and shoulder pads off.

She turned to him and George saw that she had a nice bruise on her eye. At twelve, George wasn't sure how to react.

“I didn't do that, did I..?” he asked feeling guilty if a stray bludger that he hit may have collided with her face.

“No, it wasn't you. Dad came to visit and he doesn't like losing,” Y/N muttered. George's face went pale when he realized what she meant. He only imagined the cruelty of the Malfoys up until now, but he thought that even Lucius loved his children. He didn't know what to do. Lucius was a powerful man, and there's no way he stood a chance against him. He didn't know how to help her and it killed him.

“Y/N... I had no idea... You should tell someone, a teacher! I'm sure Professor McGonagall would—” George began, but was interrupted by that same teacher's voice.

“Mister Weasley, Miss Malfoy, what on earth are you two doing this late? It's nearly curfew,” she said.

“Professor, Y/N's in t—” George began, but Y/N interrupted him.

“I'm fine, George. I'll see you around. Congratulations, good game,” Y/N said and walked away.

Once she was out of sight, George turned to McGonagall. “Professor, you have to help her. Malfoy beats her. His own child!”

McGonagall sighed and hung her head. “As much as I want to help, I cannot. Only the head of house is able to intervene like that and unfortunately if Miss Malfoy isn't going to come forward to Professor Snape, there is nothing I or you can do.”

“But she's a student! You're a teacher, you have to be able to do SOMETHING!” George pleaded with her as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

“As I said before Mister Weasley, there is nothing we can do until Miss Malfoy decides for herself. My advice to you is to be a friend to her. Merlin knows she needs someone like you,” McGonagall said. George stormed up to his room and threw his gear onto the bed.

“What's got you in a knot?” Fred asked.

“Malfoy. He beats his own kid,” George grumbled and changed into his pajamas for the night. “Y/N's got a shiner only a grown man could give.”

Fred was silent, but George could feel his rage. George went to bed that night vowing to be the best friend he could to Y/N and the three of them found themselves inseparable for the rest of the year. They shared letters over the summer after George begged Y/N to come stay with them, but her father would never allow it, so they kept in touch nearly every day.

When the sorting ceremony began for their third year at Hogwarts, George could tell Y/N was nervous. He kept sending her encouraging looks from across the tables, but he soon realized why she looked upset.

“Draco Malfoy,” McGonagall called out. George looked over and saw a small first-year step up to the sorting hat. He looked nothing like his sister, but everything like his father. He had a sneer on his face and the sorting hat barely touched his head before bellowing out Slytherin. George thought back to when Y/N had been sorted. He remembered being so nervous that it didn't even register that her last name was Malfoy, but he knew the sorting hat had been on her head for a few minutes before reluctantly saying Slytherin.

Draco made his way over to his sister and sat next to her. She smiled at him and nodded encouragingly, which seemed to help Draco relax a bit. He wondered what their relationship was like. He knew how he got along with his younger siblings, but he couldn't imagine how that family dynamic differed.

“You didn't tell us you had a kid brother,” Fred said to her during Herbology.

“You never asked,” Y/N shrugged with a cheeky grin. George let out a laugh.

“Is he anything like you?” George asked and their hands gently brushed as they both reached for the plant. George let his hand linger on hers for a moment.

Y/N shook her head and went about examining the leaves. “We used to be close, but... Once I got into Hogwarts, he started to be a daddy's boy and, well...”

Fred and George nodded in understanding. Throughout the year, Y/N and Draco would be seen eating together and George hoped that Y/N would be able to mend the relationship with her brother. It wouldn't seem that way, though, for at the beginning of their fourth year in Diagon Alley, the Weasleys had a run-in with the Malfoys.

“Oh look, Potter! Got yourself a girlfriend!” Draco teased after Ginny daringly stood up to him.

“Draco, you little shit, leave them alone,” Y/N said from beside him. “And go buy that book you just destroyed.”

“No need to be so pushy, Y/N,” a sickeningly deep and silky voice said from behind Y/N before George could greet her. Y/N's face dropped and she stood submissively behind her father. George's blood boiled at the sight of Lucius Malfoy. He had seen the bruises the man had left on his dear friend and it took every bit of strength within him to not tackle him right then. Fred looped his arm with George's to keep him from bolting forward until the Malfoys left the shop. Y/N looked back apologetically, but was then yanked away by her father's forceful hand. George saw red as he went to run after her and probably hex Lucius in the meantime, but Fred held him back with a shake of his head.

“You can't always be a hero, George,” Fred muttered. George didn't calm down until the three of them had found a compartment on the train.

“Are you alright?” George asked Y/N and sat next to her. She nodded.

“I'm sorry about him. He's...” Y/N trailed off. George looked at her with concern and gently took her hand in his. Y/N smiled slightly and allowed him to hold her hand with his gentle and soft touch.

“Awful?”

“Horrible?”

“Bigoted?”

“Evil?”

“Atrocious?”

Y/N smiled and shook her head with a small laugh at the twins' sounding off insults about her father. His hatred only burned brighter for the Malfoy patriarch when Y/N returned from Christmas holiday wincing every time she breathed. George was extra careful with her—he didn't want to hurt her worse, but he wanted her to know that his touch was one she could count on to be gentle and loving.

“Y/N you should go to Madam Pomfrey... looks like it's getting worse,” Fred said after he had made her laugh with a joke. Y/N shook her head, then bit her lip and looked at them.

“Would one of you be willing to... check?” Y/N said. “Just for a minute to make sure it's not.. worse...”

George's heart clenched and he got up from the table with her hand in his. Fred sent him and encouraging look and hung his head with furrowed brows. George knew Fred would cover for them and they headed into the abandoned girl's bathroom.

George's heart pounded as Y/N locked the door behind them and started to take her robes off to show him her injuries. He felt his breath hitch and his chest was filled with emotions. As she lifted her button-up shirt and Slytherin tie, he saw numerous dark purple, black, and green bruises along her abdomen. It was a shocking sight, and George felt his eyes well up with tears as she turned her back to show him the worst of it. Almost every part of her back was covered in linear and round bruises. He couldn't imagine what she had been through, and he wanted to kill Lucius.

“Well..? Do you see any blood?” Y/N asked.

“No, but... your whole back is purple, love...” he said and gingerly grazed his fingers along her spine. “You should go to Madam Pomfrey, please... I'll go with you.”

“No, she'll just tell Snape and then I'll get it even worse over summer,” Y/N protested.

“I don't know how it could get worse than this,” George said aloud. Y/N put herself back together and faced him with a serious expression that told George she knew it could get worse. He hurt for her and reached out to grip her hands in his. He held them for a moment and rubbed the tops of her knuckles with his thumbs.

“I can't let you go back,” he told her.

“You have to...” Y/N said. She squeezed his hands and gave him a warm smile, then left the bathroom with him gently holding her hand.

~*~

After a small argument between Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint over the Quidditch field, Draco was revealed to be the new Slytherin Seeker, which Fred and George rolled their eyes at.

“At least nobody on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They all got in on pure talent,” Hermione interjected.

“Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” Draco spat.

“Draco!” Y/N gasped in disbelief and disapproval. George's jaw clenched as he saw Draco turn to her with a dark expression.

“Eat slugs!” Ron said and flicked his wand, but was sent backward. The Gryffindor team rushed to Ron and George noticed that Y/N had followed rather than staying behind with her brother and teammates who were laughing uncontrollably. George looked at her just in time for her to make a disgusted face as his younger brother puked up a slug.

“Fraternizing with the Weasleys, eh, Y/N? Father won't be pleased with that... Disgraceful,” Draco taunted. Y/N looked back at him and threw her broomstick at her brother's feet.

“This may come as a shock to you, but I'm not interested in pleasing him. I quit,” she said through her teeth and stormed off. Fred and George shared a look for a moment and ran after her.

“Y/N! Y/N wait!” Fred called. It wasn't until they reached the Black Lake that Y/N finally stopped and sank to her knees. George approached her with gentle caution and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Y/N...? Love..?” George asked her. She looked at him with tears running down her face.

“I never even wanted to be on the team, and now he's got them all under his thumb,” Y/N sobbed. George looked back at Fred, who shrugged.

“It's going to be okay,” George said and gently patted her back.

“I was supposed to be in Ravenclaw, you know. I begged the sorting hat to put me in Slytherin because I was so scared that if I wasn't I'd never be allowed home,” Y/N cried. “And now Draco's made it okay to use that horrible language—did you see that poor girl's face?!”

George didn't know what to do, but he wanted to take her pain away. She sat down on the grass and hung her head so her chin touched her chest and shook with tears. Fred walked over and the two of them shared a look of hopelessness before wrapping their arms around her. She placed her hands on each of their arms and rested her head on George's bicep. Fred rubbed her back gently and George held her close.

~*~

It was their seventh year at Hogwarts now, and Y/N had barely written to the twins over the summer, and George was anxious to see her. With the impending threat of Voldemort's return, George wondered how the Malfoys had treated her and worried about her almost constantly. He saw her sit next to her brother in a solemn manner at the Slytherin table. He was now taller than her and he reminded George very much of Lucius. The way Y/N stood behind him was all too familiar and George hated himself for not forcing her to come stay with them after Cedric's murder. Y/N looked up at George and as soon as they made eye contact, she looked away in fear. He looked suspiciously at Draco, who smirked and patted his sister's shoulder. George's stomach went sick and he barely ate anything that night. It was several months into the school year and it seemed that Draco had been tasked with keeping Y/N in line. Every time Fred or George wanted to talk to Y/N, Draco would somehow appear and shoo them away from his sister. It wasn't until just before summer break that George was able to get Y/N alone.

It was just past curfew and George knew he shouldn't be out of bed, but he didn't care. He needed to get to the Slytherin common room and see Y/N. Things had gone from bad to worse at Hogwarts and he had to make sure she was okay.

As he passed one of the courtyards, he saw someone on a bench and heard sobs. He recognized the voice and he nearly flew over to her and placed his arms around Y/N. She must have recognized his embrace immediately because her arms flung around him and he held her close.

“I've missed you so much...” Y/N said. His heart swelled and he pulled her closer to him. He placed his face in the crook of her neck and breathed her in. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her and longed for her touch until this moment when he had her in his arms again. He pulled back to look at her face and left one arm still wrapped around her while the other reached up and placed a hand on her cheek.

“What's wrong, darling?” he asked and wiped her tears. Y/N shook her head.

“He wants me to be a Death Eater... He's going to make me get a dark mark this holiday, I can't... I don't want that,” Y/N said through sobs. “I have no choice, George, he's going to kill me if I don't do it...”

George shook his head. There is no way he would allow this. This was the last straw. “No, you're coming to live with me and Fred. It's safe there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I couldn't... Draco would catch on.”

“You know I want you, right?” he said surprising himself. “I don't know that I've ever tried to hide it, but I need you to know for certain that you're the one for me.”

Y/N looked at him and her face crumpled into despair. “We can't, George... My family would kill you, there's nothing I can do...”

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?” George repeated in desperation. He searched her eyes for any indication, and he found tears swimming in them and falling down her cheeks.

“Of course I do, George, but we—”

“Then we'll leave tomorrow. Fred and I will cause a distraction, and we'll head off. Draco's taking his OWLs tomorrow with the rest of the fifth years, yes? Well, we'll stow away then. You managed to get away from him tonight,” George reasoned and held her shoulders gently. Y/N thought it over and looked up at George.

“What about you and Fred? Graduation and everything, you'd miss it,” Y/N asked. George shook his head.

“You are the most important thing to me, do you understand? You're everything,” he said and held her face in his hand once more. Y/N's expression softened and George looked into her eyes to tell her that he was being honest and true to her. She nodded and George smiled.

“You better get back, Fred and I will come and get you tomorrow. Pack a bag, but don't be too obvious,” George instructed. Y/N nodded and smiled at him.

“Thank you, George...” she said. George swallowed hard and pulled her close to his chest, then kissed the top of her head and poured his love into it. She looked up at him after a beat and her eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips. George's heart was beating nearly out of his chest and the words he'd been longing to say were bubbling to the surface, but not coming out. Throwing caution to the wind, he shook his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers. He held the back of her head with one hand and pulled her body close to his with the other, and he felt her fingers tangle in his ginger locks. He remembered each night he yearned for her safety and the touches he gave her to reassure her that he was there over the years and put all of those feelings into this kiss. He didn't know if she meant this kiss the same way he did, but he didn't care. He poured his soul into that kiss it seemed and he drank in every move of her lips and every flick of her tongue that she gave. He knew they didn't have much time before Draco would catch on to Y/N being gone, so he ended the kiss before he wanted to.

“Tomorrow,” he promised as he broke away. Y/N nodded and George noticed her lips were swollen slightly from their kiss. They parted ways and George could hear his heart in his ears as he took the passageways back to his dorm. He was thrilled that he'd finally shown the girl of his dreams how he felt, and he was overjoyed to tell Fred of the plan.

“You alright, mate?” Fred asked when George slipped back into the room. George, slightly lovestruck and coming down from the high that was his first kiss with Y/N, nodded.

“We're busting Y/N out tomorrow and we're leaving,” George told him. Fred eyed him and smiled.

“So that's why you look like that. Wait, you snogged her, didn't you? Don't lie to me, now, I can see her gloss on your lip,” Fred said and pointed to George's lower lip. He pressed his lips together and licked the small bit of watermelon gloss she had left away.

“She was just saying thank you,” George reasoned and began to pack a bag full of his things.

“Oh I'm sure all of those longing glances and excuses to touch her totally slipped right past her,” Fred said sarcastically and mirrored George's actions with his own bag. George scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The morning after, Fred and George skipped all of their classes and followed Y/N from a distance. She was being escorted by two older Slytherins that George and Fred noticed to be seventh years.  Once it struck ten in the morning, they knew the OWLs had started. The two Slytherins were stationed outside of the charms classroom where Y/N resided inside.

“And what are you two doing?” McGonagall asked from beside them as Fred and George watched on.

“Draco's busy, so we're looking after Y/N in there,” one of them said to her. “Umbridge gave us passes.”

“Well, I say we have a talk with her then about the importance of student attendance per the Ministry's policy, hmm? Let's go,” McGonagall said and pulled the boys away from the door. They reluctantly left their posts and McGonagall made eye contact with George and flicked her head towards the classroom with a wink.

“Did you?” George asked Fred.

“No, did you?”

“No.”

They smiled and ran into the classroom as fast as they could.

“Sorry, Professor Flitwick!” Fred said and they quickly found Y/N. George helped her up and she looked slightly alarmed and put her backpack on.

“We're on a rescue mission,” George said and gripped Y/N's hand.

“Oh-um.. By all means,” Flitwick said and waved them out. “Good luck.”

“We always loved your class!” Fred said and the three of them ran out of the room.

“Accio cleansweep!” they said as they ran towards where Umbridge chained their brooms up. With a loud clang, two brooms flew through the hallways and Fred and George mounted their brooms in midair. George held his hand out for Y/N and she took it with a smile.

“Hold on tight, my love,” he told her. She nodded and gripped around his waist as they sped off toward the great hall.

“Ready, Fred?”

“Ready, George!”

The pair tossed each other various explosives as they ransacked the hall and disrupted the students. They sent a flash bomb to shatter all of Umbridge's ridiculous decrees, and set off fireworks in the sky of the hall. As a finale, they sent a dragon after Umbridge and the entire school was out in the courtyard to watch in glee at Umbridge's horrified face. They painted their logo in the sky as a final farewell to the school they loved. In the crowd, George spotted Draco, who looked extremely angry. George flipped him the bird and they sped off to the Burrow.

After all of the chaos and a fairly long broom flight, they landed at the Burrow with smiles. George helped Y/N dismount and the three of them shared a big hug.

“Thank you... I owe you,” Y/N said. Fred shook his head.

“You would have done the same for us,” he said. George nodded.

“Besides... We've got a business to plan if you're interested,” George said with a wink.

Y/N smiled and nodded. The three of them walked into the house and Y/N seemed to be in awe.

“I know it's no mansion like you're used to, but... we make do,” George said, suddenly feeling bashful about the stark difference from what Y/N must be used to as calling home.

“It's perfect...” she said with her eyes glued to the towering house. George smiled and looked at her with love in his eyes. He slipped his hand into hers and Y/N looked down at their hands and then back up at George, who had a quizzical look on his face as if he were asking permission. Y/N smiled and locked their fingers together, then they entered the house.

“What on earth are you two doing here?! Oh, hello there, dear, I don't believe we've met. Did my boys kidnap you? Oh I knew you two would do something like this one day,” Molly said once they entered the house.

“This is our friend, Y/N... We couldn't take it anymore, Mum. Umbridge was making a prison out of the school. We figured missing the last month of our last year wouldn't hurt us. And Y/N... well...” Fred began and then stopped and looked at Y/N.

“I'm so sorry to intrude... Your sons saved me from a terrible fate, I owe them, and you, my life,” Y/N said. Molly's face fell.

“Oh dear, you're the Malfoy girl, aren't you?” Molly said with a hurt expression. “You can stay as long as you need, dear. I'm glad at least one person in that family has sense... Well, your father should be back from work at any moment now and we'll all have dinner, yes?”

“Oh I'm starving,” George said. He went to walk up to his room and put his things down and pulled Y/N along with him for their hands were still interlocked.

“So this is your room...” Y/N concluded and smiled at the boys' decorated room.

“We've got a bed for you!” Fred said and with a wave of his wand he made a bed appear in the middle of theirs with the mattresses almost touching.

When it was time for dinner, the four Weasleys sat down and Y/N sat between Fred and George.

“Never thought I'd see a Malfoy sat at my table, but from what I've heard, you're more like a Weasley anyway,” Arthur said with a smile to Y/N.

“Thank you for letting me stay here... You have no idea what you've saved me from,” Y/N said.

“I know very well how cruel your father can be, my dear. I hope you feel safe here. So boys... you've secured a place in Diagon Alley?” Arthur responded and changed the subject.

“Oh yeah! Right at the corner when you walk in, can't miss it!” Fred said with his mouth full.

“Excellent!” Arthur said and tucked into his food.

George smiled as he watched Y/N eat his mum's shepherd's pie like she hadn't eaten in days. For all he knew she hadn't. He took his own bites and made eye contact with his mum, who gave him a knowing look. He shook his head and blushed—the woman was too observant.

That night, George got himself ready for bed while Y/N showered in the bathroom adjacent to their room.

“You boys did a very brave thing today. Stupid, but brave and noble...” Arthur said on his way to retire for the night.

Fred and George shared a look and smiled at each other.

“We finally did it, we got her out,” Fred remarked. George smiled and nodded. Now all he had to do was tell her how he felt. When Y/N returned from the bathroom, she was wearing the shirt George had lent her and he smiled at her. Fred excused himself for a bit to give them privacy.

“How are you feeling?” George said and walked over to her. He pulled her hands to his and felt her soft skin in his palms. His eyes traveled up her arms and he saw faint bruises that resembled handprints, he assumed from being hauled around the school by her brother or his goons.

“I'm okay, I think... I'm glad I'm here with you,” she said and looked up at him. George smiled and guided her over to her bed.

“I'm sure you're exhausted, love,” he said as he sat on his mattress and she sat on hers.

“Yeah a little bit...” she said and bit her lip. George looked at her with concern.

“You're safe here, we all are. I promise,” he told her as he looked into her eyes.

“I know... I just... George, did you mean what you said yesterday?” she asked with a look of hope in her eyes.

George smiled and held her cheek. “Every word.”

Y/N smiled. “Good...”

~*~

The battle of Hogwarts was over. Harry was dead and George was sure he was about lose his life, too. He held Y/N's hand as tightly as he could and rubbed his hand over the ring that he'd placed on her finger not two months ago. They had lost so many today and he'd be damned if he lost his love, too. He'd die before he let her be cursed or killed.

“Draco... Draco! Draco, come,” Lucius spat at his son and beckoned him to join the Death Eaters.

George could see Y/N looking at her younger brother. Almost all eyes were on Draco and the boy looked torn. He looked over to where his sister stood. Y/N held George's hand and he could tell that they had made eye contact. Fred stood defensively with his brother.

“No... This has gone on long enough... I turned on the only person in my family I ever cared about, but I won't do it a second time,” Draco said and made his way over to Y/N as the Death Eaters stared in shock at Draco's insolence.

George stood in front of Y/N protectively, but she let go of his hand and stood in front of Draco.

“I'm sorry,” Draco said. Y/N wrapped her arms around her taller brother and he accepted her hug with his own.

“Avada kedavra!” George heard Lucius shout and the crowd erupted in chaos as Draco fell to the ground on top of Y/N.

“No! Y/N!! Y/N!!” Fred and George screamed for her. With panicked and shaking hands, they moved Draco's body off of her. George barely glanced at Draco's dead form and went to check Y/N.

“I'm okay...” Y/N said, which sent a wave of relief through him. George barely had time to register that Harry wasn't dead and Voldemort was throwing curses all around in frustration and anger that his adversary had bested him.

“Where are you going?!” George yelled after Y/N, who had sprinted off after her father. She dodged Voldemort's aimless explosions and made her way to the bridge.

“Go after her! I'll pull Draco into the hall!” Fred instructed. Without another thought, George ran after her and caught up just as she disarmed her father on the bridge that connected Hogwarts and the outside world.

“Expeliarmus!” she shouted and his wand flew into the ravine.

“I knew you'd turn out to be no good, but I'd rather Draco dead than sink to the depths you've sunk,” Lucius seethed.

“SHUT UP!” Y/N bellowed through tears. “You're going to Azkaban where you belong.”

Lucius laughed. “And who's going to make me? Two blood traitors?”

“Crucio!” Y/N cursed and Lucius fell onto the stone. Narcissa watched in horror and covered her sobs with her mouth at her husband's cries of pain.

“Y/N, stop... this isn't you,” George calmed with a hand on her shoulder.

“He killed my brother just as we were going to make progress. Now I'll never have that. He's ruined my life too many times for me to just let him get away,” Y/N said, continuing her curse.

“Love...” George said as he saw her eyes flood with tears and spill over onto her cheeks. He lowered her wand for her and she let him. With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, Lucius was under the body-bind hex indefinitely. George turned her head to face his. “You're not that person.”

Y/N sobbed and George pulled her into his chest. They were there for several minutes before Fred caught up to them. He had a smile on his face as dawn broke.

“Voldemort's dead! Up in smoke. Harry's done it!” Fred said with a smile. He knelt down and held his brother and future sister in law.

Y/N composed herself long enough to watch her mother and father be hauled away with the rest of the remaining Death Eaters. George held onto her the whole time. They made their way back tot he Great Hall and Y/N sat next to Draco's body and held his hand. She said nothing, and George sat with her for as long as it took the rest of the Order to move the bodies to the mortuary, including his. Y/N took  deep breath and leaned against George.

“I want to go home,” Y/N said. George nodded and held her hand as they walked off the grounds, then apparated back to their flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. There weren't words spoken between them, but George made every effort to have Y/N exert none. He undressed her and turned the bath on for them, then helped her in and supported her against him. He used a loofah and her favorite soap to wash the sweat, dirt, and blood from her body and he noticed that she had gained a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious, thankfully. After washing himself, he rinsed them both off and drew a fresh bath of warm soapy water for them to relax in.

“George?” Y/N said in a small voice.

“Hm?” he responded as he mindlessly rubbed her arm with his fingers.

“Do you think less of me?” she asked. George sat up slightly and looked at her.

“Now what makes you say that?” he asked.

“I've dreamed of cursing Lucius for years...” she said.

“You and everyone else in this family, my dear,” George said and leaned his head back and closed his eyes enjoying the warmth of her skin and the water around him.

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

Y/N rested her head on his damp and bare chest, and George smiled and wrapped an arm around her. When they got out of the tub, Y/N seemed to be feeling better, and she greeted Fred with a warm hug when he returned to their shared flat. He retired to his room and George was sure he had the same sort of bath that George and Y/N shared earlier. It was dark outside and George wasn't really sure what time it was, but he and Y/N were tucked into bed. He held her close against his chest and her body perfectly conformed to him as it often had. In a few moments, he felt her soft and even breathing against him and he smiled knowing that she was sleeping. He kissed her forehead and thanked the stars that he was able to have her in his life.

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 3

Title: The Last One Standing

Note: I’m sorry this was a bit later than usual, everything’s been wild today but anyways, here it is! On the bright side, no one dies in this one! But it is kinda wack though, man, I’m kind of iffy about it, I won’t lie to you. I will make up for it in the future angst fics.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

“Don’t come on our team, Tendou!”

A lacuna in his heart.

“Monsters aren’t allowed on human teams!”

A shell. 

“Yeah, he does look like a monster.”

Monster. An imaginary creature that was typically large, ugly, and frightening. He was only a child and he was already called a monster. Was it because he was good at guessing people’s steps? Was it because of his physical appearance? What was it about him that made people look away from him and talk about him behind his back? Tendou didn’t know what it was, but it stung. It stung that people would take a look at him and immediately scrunch their faces up in disgust.

The volleyball game that ensued, he came out victorious. He could only see the frustrated and desperate expression on the boy’s face and the feeling of power washed over him. A one touch wasn’t enough to feed into what he wanted, he needed more. 

Day after day, he kept practicing, trying to ignore all of the words that everyone would say about him. None of that was important. Getting better at guessing people’s actions was much more important. 

That’s how his life was until he met her. They met in high school and she had gone and opened her arms, welcoming him into her life without hesitating. Usually people wouldn’t welcome him into their lives unless they wanted something from him. Shiratorizawa saw his potential. The volleyball team had welcomed him, hell, Ushijima Wakatoshi himself invited him into this whole new world.

He was comfortable with everyone around him and when she walked into his life with a bright grin on her face, he couldn’t help but trust her on the spot.

Y/N L/N, his savior, the person who introduced him to the world again, reassuring him that not everyone was bad. There were a few aspects of this world that were horrendous, but with her by his side he could do anything.

At least, that was what he thought but he didn’t really expect it for the time being. He just wanted to be with her as long as he could.

However, some things don’t last as people wish they would. 

~

“Hey, Y/N, are you done with my manga yet?” Tendou asked, bounding into her house, not really expecting her to be done with the manga. If Ushijima could barely finish, he didn’t expect much of her but he’d be pleasantly surprised if she had. 

Y/N looked up at him, horror in her eyes. “Tell me you have the next volume, I’m not going to be stuck on this cliffhanger, Tendou!”

He stared at her and at the closed manga being gripped tightly in her hands. Her knuckles were turning white just from the force of her grip and he started smiling brightly. “You finished?!”

“Yeah! Now tell me you have the next volume, cliffhangers suck!”

“Well, lucky for you, I do have the next volume with me just in case you finished it quicker than Wakatoshi. He only reads the ads, it’s strange. But at least he tries, that’s what’s important.” He plucked the manga out of her hands, sliding the new volume into her empty palms. 

She grinned down at the new volume and flipped it open to the first page, scanning the page quickly, her eyes almost becoming a blur. “You want to eat anything? I’ve restocked on your snacks and you’re welcome to my Netflix account.”

Tendou ruffled her hair, internally warm from her hospitality. Moving over to the cupboard, he decided to inquire about the new volume. “So what’d you think about the fights? They were pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah! They were so cool, I can’t wait to see them animated. But the villain is the absolute worst, his character development better not be messed with or else I’ll throw something.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled out the snack he had been looking for, munching on it as he walked over to her. Sitting on the chair near her, he looked over at the page she was on and thought, Wow, she really does care. She cares about something I love so much that she’s chatting on about it and it seems genuine. Maybe I can let my guard down around her. 

One thing that he didn’t expect were his creeping insecurities coming for him. Nothing good was ever free in this life. You had to earn it and at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he had earned it. Either way, it was just an obstacle that he had to get through in his life. There wouldn’t be a problem. At least he hoped not.

Letting your guard down and being vulnerable around someone could bring bliss but it could also be the bane of your existence. There was no way no one in this life had their guard down completely. Once someone had ruined a person, there was no going back. It was all or nothing. Hurt was something unshakeable. Once it was there, once there was a new person in your life, you can’t help but lie like a prey waiting for its predator. The question that remains is always, “What’ll happen next? What’s their next movement? What if this is too good to be true?”

Some things were too good to be true, after all.

~

The last spike of the game, slamming down onto Shiratorizawa’s side of the court. The last spike made by Karasuno’s shortest middle blocker. The thud of the ball caused everything to be silent.

Y/N could only stare with the other spectators in the Shiratorizawa stands, nothing happening for a moment. Her eyes flickered over to Tendou, who was currently in shock, but his face wouldn’t reveal much. 

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Until Karasuno started screaming and cheering, the third years hugging each other and crying, everyone else on the team feeling like everything was surreal. 

The team members that were not on the regular roster stood out of the court, gasps lost in their throats as they stared at the defeated team. Tendou could only look at the court and whisper, “Farewell, my paradise” before looking over at Y/N with a thwarted beam.

That’s what broke Y/N’s heart. The only place where Tendou felt like he truly belonged, truly loved to be in and now he was leaving it because of a team. After everything was over and the major events finished, Y/N raced out of the stands, dodging through the crowd, trying to find Tendou and his team.

All of them were currently walking out of the gym and heading to the buses, quiet at their expense.  Y/N quickly said, “Hey, can I talk to Tendou for a second?”

Tendou walked after Y/N, slouching over until he felt a warm body pressed against his, arms around his waist. He stalled for a moment before wrapping his arms around Y/N as well. His heart was racing at the proximity, but he believed it was from the events of the game. 

“Listen. You did your best. You did everything you could in your power. I can’t tell you that it’ll be fine, because it won’t. You’ll probably look back at this moment as nationals escaping from your grip, but believe me, Tendou--” She pulled back, placing her hand on his cheek, smiling sadly at him. “No one blames you or anyone. You were absolutely amazing out there and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay? You stunned me with every block, you were spectacular.” She reached up to kiss his forehead and looked behind him. “You gotta go. Go get on the bus and you can come over later.” 

Looking at her receding back, he touched the spot she had kissed and his heart swelled with pure adoration for Y/N. It was rare when someone was genuine with him and wanted to be friends with him and not anything else. But it was extraordinary that someone had fallen for him, especially when he thought he was unlovable.

Maybe everything was going to be okay. 

~ 

About two or three years had passed since he had graduated. He was currently in college, studying something other than volleyball. Tendou wasn’t going to be a professional volleyball player but he had no idea what he wanted to do.

Y/N got home, sighing as she placed her shoes by the door. “God, today was so exhausting, I’m so tired.” She draped herself across his lap like a cat and he reached out to put her hair. 

“What happened today?”

“Eh, the normal, a ton of work for the weekend. I’ll start it tomorrow, let me take a nap here. Night, Satori.” She closed her eyes.

“It’s only 3 pm?” He stared down at her with an amused grin and she raised an eyebrow. 

“Your point being?” She replied playfully before drifting off to sleep.

Oh, what fun the two of them would have in their last year of being together.

~

“Isn’t that the Guess Monster?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of scary if you ask me, he was on Shiratorizawa.”

“That’s a powerhouse school, isn’t it? Well, he certainly looks like he could guess your next step and bite your head off.”

Tendou walked through these rumors with his head held high, a facade of him not being hurt put over his face. Why was he still being treated like an unearthly being when he was only human? As a human, it was logical that he’d get hurt by these words and people still had the audacity to spread rumors and talk behind his back. But soon, he had had enough: he started sprinting, trying to get away from the ties that fastened him to his dark and traumatic past.

He got home quickly, shutting the door as he leaned against it, sliding down and burying his face in his hands as he swallowed. “Am I really a monster?” He mumbled to himself. He stayed there before hearing keys jangle in the door and thinking, Y/N’s here.

Then his thoughts turned tenebrous as he stepped away from the door. Y/N was not there for him. She was only there because she wanted something from him, but the question was what. There was no way Y/N L/N, the most adored person in Shiratorizawa, had been with him for this long. There was no way.

Tendou Satori’s fatal flaw was letting his insecurities get to him. He made mistakes because of it. And all of those mistakes could lead to him losing what he loved most. 

“I’m home--Satori? What’s wrong?” One look at his voice and she was already worried. “You okay? What happened?” She put her stuff down and walked over to him, reaching for his hand.

But he nimbly pulled his hand away from hers. “Why are you still with me?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Satori, is this because of the rumors?” She tilted her head, squinting at him in confusion.

“How do you know about the rumors?” He demanded. “Did you start any of them? I bet you did, there is no way you could’ve stayed with me this long. You probably just stuck around to ridicule me just like everyone else! You were too good to be true.” Tendou turned away from her, not wanting to look her in the eyes, afraid that he would only see the maliciousness he had expected within them.

“Satori, I don’t know where you heard that, but I swear I’ve never started any rumors about you! I’ve tried to break them off, I’ve tried to help you out, I wanted everyone to give you a second chance. I gave you a do-over, I want them to see you as I see you!” She cried out.

“As what? A monster?” He scoffed before she could say anything. “There’s no way you wanted to just be around me because you liked me. Tell me this, Y/N, what do you get when people have been bullying you from a young age? You get hurt. I don’t want to be hurt by the person I love.”

“You think I’m trying to hurt you? I’ve been trying to help you all of these years, Satori! I’ve been by your side at all times! What’s making you talk like this?!”

Tendou deliberately ignored that last question. “Well, you didn’t have to! I don’t think you’d want to be with me. After all, I’m just a Guess Monster, I could probably guess your next move and swallow you in a minute, huh? Right? Am I right or not?” In a moment of boldness, he looked up at her, fury clear in his eyes. Hysteria was blinding him from the truth and so were his self-doubts.

“I stayed because I wanted to! I wouldn’t have stayed otherwise! You’re being overdramatic, why are you so blind as to my true motives?! I’m not them, I could never be them! Why do you even doubt me for a second that I don’t want anything bad happening to you!” She swallowed dryly, her voice shaking now. “If you want me to leave, tell me. Please, Satori, I don’t want to lose you.”

Tendou could not stop his next words. “Y/N. Just….go. I know what your true motives are. I don’t want you to be with a monster like me, a monster that you obviously never cared for. I’m so stupid to believe that you did. You’re dense if you think I’m falling for another trick of yours.”

Y/N clenched her fists, staring at the broken boy across from her. She picked up his pieces long enough. “I gave you your chance and you used it to stab me in the back. You’re just like everyone else. You’re not different.” With those words, she marched back around and opened the door, looking over her shoulder. “You know, maybe someone’ll come along and fix the mess neither of us could fix.”

With the closing of the door, Tendou’s metaphorical vision shattered. Every single word he had said came rushing back to him, making him double over as he realized what he did singlehandedly. He just made the person he loved him the most--and who he loved the most--run away from him. He wanted to tell her to come back, but Y/N, as loyal as she was, was also stubborn and ruthless.

Tendou sunk onto the floor, his hands in his hair, almost trying to yank it out as he started shuddering. “Oh God...what have I done?”

Tears started pooling in his eyes and he blinked, the droplets falling slowly down his cheeks and making miniscule puddles on the floor. It hurt. It hurt that the person he loved so much tried so hard to stay with him but he couldn’t blame Y/N for leaving him. After what he did, he didn���t expect anyone to love him the way she did.

Hysterical gasps of anguish started coming from his throat until he was full-on crying his eyes out, his eyes closed shut to hold the tears back only to open them and have them fall again. So much was going on, reality was smacking him in the face. She wasn’t there to help him. She would never do it again.

It was his fault.

He made sure she wouldn’t come back.

Now he had lost the greatest treasure in his life and there was no way he could fix that.

After all, his biggest rival was his prejudices. They had taken over his mind and now they had taken her away. 

Everything was broken.

~

Taglist: @skyguy-peach​ @jovialnoise​ @versatilewindow​ @tsukiibaka​ @jaegersblogh​ @kodzuken-pie​ @sugusho​ @kara-grayson04​ @erialexerz​ @attixca​ @multishippers-trash-blog​

[majorxmaggiexboy]

my favorite part about TURN is how most of Ben’s little handful of Personal Enemies tend to just. forget he exists. usually (but not always) right after verbally confirming their intent to murder him.

( disclaimer: this is a very silly list and not meant to be taken seriously at all, especially toward the end, although imo i’ve got a point on some of them XD )

Simcoe is more implied, but i mean he has his own special way of saying Ben’s name and a very good reason to Absolutely Hate Him (they share a birthday!), they had an excellent dialogue basically debating each other under the guise of playing Devil/Angel to Newt...but ultimately he’s content to go after Abe and Caleb and be the bane of Anna’s existence and never think about Ben again.

Rogers literally spends all of s1 on a full-on quest to get revenge against Ben for having the audacity to fight for his life and survive Rogers’ ambush. The first time he hears Ben’s name, it zooms in on his face as a “oh sh** he comin” song plays over the scene.The last time they see each other, Rogers  l i t e r a l l y  swears to hunt Ben down....and then only ever mentions him again, one time, to Abe, and then hecks off to do his own thing and doesn’t even go back to the Must Kill Tallmadge quest after finishing the Must Kill Jandre quest. Drops Ben like a hot potato (not an inaccurate label but we digress)

Sarah considered shooting him but she isn’t really on this list

Arnold gives his whole stupid spiel in the tavern about how Ben’s one of the Meddling Kids who ruined his life and how he Will Not Let That Stand and then, to be fair, you know what, actually he might have been trying something when he invited Ben to turncoat. He knows Ben’s Head of Intelligence. Maybe he had a little backstabby plan there. We’ll give him half a point for inviting Ben via postcard to come to his little ratbastardly house party, immediately after verbally confirming intent to murder him...before proceeding to never think about or mention Ben again. half a point to Arnold. However points off for lack of follow-through or finesse bring his score to a number so negative we don’t actually have a number for it.

Lee not only decided he wanted to murder Ben, but was also fully gonna make it happen until Wash intervened and then Lee couldn’t even be bothered to plot in the background or send assassins or anything. no points. actually two points for the hilarious scene where he does intend to attempt murder. but points off for being Lee and also for giving up. Hasn’t he heard of Try, Try Again? I mean Ben’s fully immune to death but come on, dude.

Randall got his face rearranged by Ben (and the people said amen) and while it was mentioned that there was a fallout from this (for Ben) we didn’t see it and Randall didn’t discuss it and it was never brought up again. Granted there is nothing that could improve Randall’s score at this stage of the game but you know what now his score is even lower. Randall Sucks, objectively.

To be fair, Gamble never claimed he’d like to- actually no I take it back he actually did verbally confirm that, for pretty much no reason, he’d like to not only murder Ben but also ~be mean to him~ first. Actively attempted to hunt him down after he escaped but apparently was eventually like “eh, forget it” before getting indecisively d’Artagnan’d by Ben. He doesn’t lose any points though because he’s got a cute smile and is weirdly charming in a swamp weasel kind of way. Also used his last words to make a pun.

Bradford’s on the list just bc he did not give a damn. He didn’t forget anything with Ben bc Ben was barely on his radar to start with. He was so unconcerned with actually participating in the rivalry, that Ben had to carry 90% of it himself. Every time Ben shows up Bradford’s just like 🙄 doesn’t lose any points bc the only reason he didn’t make a solid attempt to do whatever he was going to do right after announcing intent to do something, was that Caleb was there as backup (always) and then the whole dying thing happened. Solid effort, Brad, deserved better and i like him so much. 9/10

Hewlett’s on the list just in order to mention that Ben literally charged into town with guns blazing and ruined his day and Hewlett was just like...he had nothing to say. Ben was off his radar so fast they couldn’t even get to the Personal Enemies stage.

Jandre unfortunately loses some points for the fact that Ben gets outed to him as Head of Intelligence and Johnsauce doesn’t particularly care or do anything with that information he’s just like “that’s weird bc based on what I know about Tallmadge, the kid sucks, but based on what I know about Washington’s Head of Intelligence, the kid is brilliant. Huh.” so he loses points for never even trying to ruin Ben’s day or anything like that but he gets a pass bc their little interaction bit was all sweet and mutal-respecting and emotionally just. yeah.

Mary’s on the list because she should have had a personal grudge like “you’re the one who invited my husband into your dangerous little spy club?” and they had some tension but she didn’t do anything and really all they did was yell at each other so u-u

hell let’s throw Scott on here too because he was like “dISCIPLINARY ACTION” but then he was like “...LATER.” like dude you can shoot like three dudes dead with no trial but you can’t even roll up one of those reports and bop Ben on the head with it? tch. no gumption Scott, you suck. Loses points because he was so convinced that someone else would handle Ben for him that he (thankfully) didn’t just do it himself.

you know what let’s actually put Washington on this list too just because of the fact that two different times, TWO TIMES, he reaches the point of being like “TALLMADGE YOURE FIRED” and literally nothing happens. Especially funny because the first time, he said Ben was fired for not being able to get the spies to listen to him and follow orders...and then Ben proceeds to...not...follow orders...like ever. at all. straight-up planned to go behind Wash’s back to rescue Hewlett but Caleb was like “I got this”...continued to defy orders right up through the second time he got fired. 10/10 but no actually Washington loses some points for just being like “I’m done with you. You’re fired.” instead of dropping that cape over Ben’s head and then spinning him a few times or something. Show some initiative, my guy, be creative. Express yourself. Anyway he apparently forgot Ben had been fired both times it happened so. List.

Peggy’s on the list because not only did she cook up a scheme to try to at least get information from Ben, she also...look, she was told by Arnold that Ben’s Head of Intelligence. The wheels turned, onscreen, for God and everybody to see. She goes to Ben, turns on the charm, which he’s too busy admiring the clock and being sad to properly appreciate, had that whole thing where she was like “Hey,,,,wanna dance,,” and he was like “I’m at your service” (!!!!!!!!) and she was like, “I should think so” (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and there was nothing happening right then that wasn’t her being like “i’m gonna squeeze this himbo for every ounce of war-critical intel he can give me. won’t even know what hit him” aND THEN IT’S NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN. SHE JUST. SPOKE TO HIM LIKE ONE TIME AND DROPPED THE WHOLE SCHEME. WIThIN THE SAME EPISODE. 1000000000000/10 Iconic, Pegs. Well done on the “Let’s not bother with Tallmadge, he’s a silly boy” angle!

Lastly let’s actually put Tarleton on here just because i mean in real life, he and Tallmadge allegedly had a run-in (an ambush, actually) that involved him stealing Tallmadge’s horse, some money, and some documents. In the show? Never even shows up. Not even mentioned. Dude quit before he even started that’s how uncommitted...boooooo

[aticklishtem]

Weakness of Doom

((oh boy here I go bringing my bullshit into a new decade again~ this is dedicated to @ticklishjevil bc she is 100% to blame for my descent into ZADR hell and generally inspiring/encouraging the creation of this...thing!! I hope you’re proud of yourself darling 💖

ALSO I’m very sorry if the spacing/formatting is borked tumblr mobile is terrible but I am doing my best to fix as we speak ;w; ))

***

“Give it up, Zim! You’ll never get away with this!”

Dib had lost count of how many times he’d said that by now. Eight years, countless crazy schemes, a couple near total obliterations of the galaxy as they knew it and an almost equal tally of humiliating defeats and triumphant (if temporary) victories for both sides - somehow, it always seemed to come back to the two of them. Dib, Zim, the doomsday device of the day and this seemingly endless chase that remained as frustrating yet exhilarating as it was the day the green kid first rocked up to class. Would it ever end? That almost didn’t seem to matter at this point - this was the life Dib had chosen. As long as Zim was around, he had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, a duty to the rest of humankind to keep protecting his planet from impending extraterrestrial invasion...even if most of them remained too dumb to appreciate his efforts.

“You’re too late, Dib-stink!” cried the bug-eyed bane of his existence, waving around some kind of remote with a red button. “Just one press of this button, and every single whiffy signal -“

“...do you mean wi-fi?”

“Zim knows what Zim means!” he barked, an antenna twitching with irritation. “As I was saying, every signal will be scrambled, and without their mind-numbing entertainment, your fellow earthworms will inevitably turn on each other! Leaving the planet defenceless for when I, Zim...figure out how to do whatever it is I need to do to destroy you all!”

“Noooo! That’s…” Dib paused mid-dramatic wail. “Actually a pretty solid plan? I mean, I can see your logic. It’s definitely an improvement on some of your others, like that one with the rubber chickens -“

“Silence!” Zim pointed an accusing claw at him, though Dib could’ve sworn he preened a little at the almost-compliment, puffing up his chest and planting his free hand on his hip. “Of course it is foolproof! And if you imagine for a second that the amazing Zim could ever become so distracted by his own ingeniousness that he could be lured into monologuing until a hypothetical opportunity might arise for someone to take - hey gimme that back!”

Fortunately, some things had changed in all those years; puberty had been at least kind enough to Dib so he could now dangle his superior height - literally and metaphorically - over Zim’s head. “Sorry, what’d you say?” he taunted, holding his prize high out of his enemy’s reach after snatching it from his claws. “I couldn’t hear because of how much taller I am!”

His moment of glory was cut short, however, as Zim launched himself at him with a hiss like a feral cat, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and antennae. They were still surprisingly evenly matched; Zim was a lot stronger than his size would suggest, but Dib now had the advantage of longer arms and legs to attempt to hold him off as they wrestled for the device. He might even have been winning - right up until Zim grabbed his side, claws digging into the sensitive spot just below his ribs.

Dib yelped, reflexively slamming his arm down to protect himself; before either could do anything, the remote flew out of his hand and across the room until it disappeared under one of Zim’s experiment tanks. Instead of running after it, Zim took advantage of the distraction to seize Dib’s wrist, pinning him to the floor.

“Ha!” Zim loomed over him, now straddling Dib’s waist so his maniacal grin filled his whole vision. “You flesh-bags really are pitiful, cowering in pain from the slightest touch!”

“That’s not what that - was…” Dib froze, heat rising to his cheeks as his nemesis bore down on him, now painfully aware of his compromising position. Zim couldn’t - did he even know what tickling was? Because this would be a really bad time for him to find out.

“...Eh?” Zim narrowed his eyes, curiosity flickering across his face alongside the usual suspicion and irritation. “What are you smiling about? Why is your grotesquely ginormous head so red?!”

“My head’s not bihihig!” Dib bit down on his lip, but he couldn’t stop a few embarrassing giggles from slipping out when Zim jabbed at his ribs again. He struggled to bat his hand away, but with only one arm free and Zim basically sitting on top of him, he wasn’t having much success. “Quihihit ihit!”

A shiver ran down his spine as he could practically see his doom unfold along with Zim’s smile, sadistic delight sparkling in his eyes, and oh god no Dib thought he was prepared for anything but please not this, anything but this, he’ll never live it down…

“Well, well - you really thought you could conceal such a glaring weakness from me?” he demanded, mercilessly prodding and pinching his way up Dib’s side. “I’d...sort of imagined more writhing in excruciating agony, but this is rather amusing too, watching you squirm like the wretched worm you are!”

“Thihis isn’t fahahahair!” Dib spluttered between peals of laughter; he hadn’t been tickled since he was a little kid, but this was so much worse because it was Zim and he hated giving him the satisfaction but was equally powerless to stop his body from reacting as those probing claws dug right into his horribly exposed armpit. “Zihihihim!”

“Yes, yes, I am Zim!” his foe cackled, releasing Dib’s wrist to attack with both hands, one even scuttling under his shirt - which was so far beyond fair - and scratching at the tender skin almost hard enough to hurt, but his gloves dulled the sensation so it just tickled even more. “If I had known you were this easily incapacitated, I could’ve built a device to take care of you long ago! Now, laugh, pathetic Dib-thing - admit your annihilation, or perish in helpless hysteria at the merciless claws of Zim!”

“Nehehehever - !” Dib had not foiled so many of Zim’s plans to let him win this one by tickling him, of all the cruel and unusual methods. There was only one way to fight back, and he had no idea if it’d even work on an alien, but what else did he have to lose, more of his dignity? Arms flailing as he tried desperately to suck in his stomach before those treacherous claws could get to his bellybutton, he eventually managed to grab a handful of Zim’s side and squeeze it repeatedly.

Zim let out a squawk like a bird having its feathers pulled out, letting go of Dib as he scrabbled to slap his hands away. “D-do not touch Zim with your fihilthy meat-sticks!”

Huh - that sounded like a game-changer, and now it was Dib’s turn to grin like a mad scientist as he kneaded Zim’s sides like his life depended on it - which it might - until he had an armful of squirming Irken trapped in an almost-hug, one arm around Zim’s waist with his PAK pressing against Dib’s chest.

“What’s the matter, does it tickle?” he asked, smirking from ear to ear as he savoured the sweetness of revenge - and possibly the most important discovery of his career as a paranormal investigator. “Is the mighty Invader Zim ticklish?”

“Lies! Cease! Ihihi’m gonna destrohohoy yooooou…!”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard Zim laugh before - only like every day since they were at skool - but this was different; less controlled and mocking, more free and almost joyful, even if it was a joy forced upon him as he writhed, kicked and cackled under Dib’s skittering fingers, exploring the surprisingly soft and smooth skin under his shirt. It wasn’t exactly an autopsy, but the thought that he might be the first to hear - the first to make Zim almost squeal when he wiggled his fingers under his arms - that was more deeply, weirdly, sadistically satisfying than anything he’d imagined. “Wow, I think you’re worse than I am! So are all Irkens this ticklish, or is it just you?”

“Zihim is telling you nohothihihihing!” Zim’s laughter seemed to jump an octave when Dib felt around his back; the skin around his PAK was slightly raised where it was embedded, which was interesting, mainly for the way he bucked and squirmed frantically as Dib traced it with his fingers. “GIR! Where are you?! Do something to make this stohohop!”

“Yes, master!”

Dib looked up just in time to see Zim’s robot assistant propelling towards him at alarming speed, his eyes blazing red. Before he could move to shield himself, however, GIR came to an abrupt stop, eyes flickering back to cyan and his metallic mouth stretching into its familiar hyperactive smile. “Ooooh! Tickle fight! I wanna plaaaay!”

“Now, GIR! Fire the - wait, no, what are you doing?! Put that back!” Both Zim’s and Dib’s eyes widened - in horror and intrigue respectively - as GIR plonked himself down on one of Zim’s legs, picked up the other and pulled his boot off. Dib had never actually seen his feet before, he realised; he had three toes, clawed like his fingers but a little shorter. Judging by how he scrunched them up when GIR prodded them, they were also pretty sensitive.

“This li’l piggy went to Foodcourtia,” GIR chirped, wiggling a toe; Zim made a strangled noise of protest and attempted to pull away, but Dib was still holding onto him. “This li’l piggy went home - aw, we outta piggies! And thiiis li’l piggy…”

“GIR - nooo!” Zim begged, and Dib could actually feel him tremble in his arms as his toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. “Don’t do this! You’re supposed to attack the intruder, not -“

“...went weeweeweeweeeeeeeee…!” GIR hugged Zim’s foot and scribbled furiously all over it, his tiny metal hands a blur as his master shrieked with laughter, helpless to escape his ticklish doom.

“How’s it feel, Zim, betrayed by your own minion?” Dib snickered along with him as it occurred to him he should probably be recording or taking photos of possibly the greatest moment of his life to date, but holding Zim captive and laughing helplessly was way too satisfying, tickling under his arms while GIR happily went to town on his foot. “Maybe I’ll just keep you like this - you’re not much of a threat to the Earth when you’re just a cute little giggly alien puddle…”

“Wh-whahahahahaaaaa?!”

The sheer incredulous outrage in Zim’s voice tore through the air, and Dib couldn’t help but wince, recoiling as the ear-splitting screech assaulted his eardrums. As his grip loosened, Zim wriggled free and kicked GIR off of him, scrambling back to his feet, and the chaos was replaced by an unusual and equally uncomfortable silence. (Apart from GIR eating popcorn out of his head as he watched them, and that was the most normal thing about this situation.)

“I - uh...“

“He thinks you cuuuute!” GIR giggled, grabbing Zim’s cheeks and squishing them together comically.

“No I don’t!” Dib felt his face flush under the spotlight of both GIR’s carefree smile and Zim’s laser-beam glare, the protest coming out just a little too quickly. “I was teasing you - it’s just a thing people say when they…”

He trailed off, because man, things had gotten weird, even by their standards. But this was still Zim, and he was still a jerk and evil and the total opposite of cute, even a little breathless with his clothes all rumpled and one foot still bare, antennae lowered and quivering and what looked suspiciously like an olive-coloured blush staining his cheeks. That warm feeling was just Dib enjoying the sight of his enemy humiliated in defeat, like anyone would. Right? That made sense.

“Give me my boot, GIR.”

“Go long!”

Zim caught the offending item without looking, but instead of putting it back on he hurled it at Dib, who dodged just before it smacked him in the face, bouncing off his shoulder instead.

“Ow - hey, that’s sharp!”

“Good! Suffer! That’s what you get for trying to taint the mighty name of Zim with your disgusting lies like…” He screwed up his face as if he could barely bring himself to spit out the word, making dramatic finger-quotes, “cute!”

“Okay, geez! It’s not like I meant it…” Dib rubbed his shoulder, shifting awkwardly - he wished they’d stop repeating the word like that. But even this momentary weirdness couldn’t change the fact that he’d just uncovered a significant weakness in his nemesis, even if he inconveniently shared it. He’d be an idiot not to exploit this for all it was worth, a smug grin tugging at his lips again as he picked up Zim’s boot. “But thanks for this. I bet I can get all kinds of useful evidence from a genuine article of alien clothing…”

“You…!” Zim’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he let out an indignant splutter - only to break into a dangerously familiar smile before activating his PAK legs, towering over Dib with a renewed gleam of vengeance in his eye. “Enjoy your last few seconds of freedom, Dib-worm - we shall soon settle who is cute!”

“I’d like to see you - wait, what?!”

Dib didn’t have time to figure out what Zim meant by that as he darted for an escape route, still clutching Zim’s boot - but when he was quickly seized and hoisted into the air by a pair of metal spider legs, he was pretty sure things were only about to get a whole lot weirder.

But this was the life he’d chosen - and would he really want it any other way?

[wolveria]

The Jedi’s Gambit - Ch. 4

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Cad Bane

Summary: The day Cad Bane turned himself in caused quite a stir at the Jedi Temple.

The way Luminara told it, he simply walked up the steps, approached the nearest Temple Guard, and said, “I surrender.” Toothy smirk and all.

Yes, Obi-Wan definitely had a bad feeling about this.

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers (for my writing challenge at @trashmenofmarvel​)

Word Count: 1.2k

AO3

Cad Bane wasn’t entirely surprised when they came out of hyperspace earlier than they should have. Not surprised either when the planet below wasn’t Worath. His day, hell, his life had gone to shit eons ago, so why not add some more fuckery to this whole situation?

“Get up,” the clone said sharply, smacking his shoulder with the butt of a rifle. Bane did what he was told, a slight smirk on his lips as he rose to his feet.

“So it’s gonna be like dhat, eh?” he mused. “Take yer two pounds of flesh before you throw me in lockdown?”

“Shut it,” the clone growled, knocking the rifle into Bane’s shoulder again to get him moving. He rolled the shoulder slowly, as if to say he wasn’t impressed. Which, he wasn’t.

“Why not have yer beat-down in the ship? Don’t need to go and make a big deal of it on my account,” Bane remarked smoothly as they led him down the prison transport ramp. He squinted his eyes against the bright surface ship-lights, appraising his odd surroundings. It looked like some kind of abandoned mining operation.

Isolated. Unpatrolled. The perfect place to dispose of a body.

Suspicion and alertness made his heart accelerate, but he showed none of his wariness on the outside.

“We don’t want to make a mess of our ship.”

The blow came fast and hard, striking Bane in the stomach with a plastoid armored fist. The breath was sucked from his lungs and he stumbled, bent over but still standing. He gave a wheezing chuckle, refusing to fall so easily to just one blow, even though his midsection contracted in pain.

“I can appreciate good housekeeping,” Bane responded, giving his captors a leering grin. Another blow struck him, this time to the face, causing his jaw to make an alarming cracking noise. A second clone kicked him in the back of his legs, forcing him onto the ground, while another kneed him in the face.

Helpless with his arms still cuffed behind his back, Bane curled into a ball and tried to protect himself as much as possible from the merciless blows of the clones. They didn’t hold back, and he wondered if this was how they meant to kill him, by simply beating him to death. That did surprise him. Brute, violent force of a defenseless target wasn’t usually the clones’ style.

Eventually the assault stopped but the pain continued, various points of his body throbbing and joining together in a chorus of agony. The parts of him that hadn’t been bruised before, given to him courtesy of his clone prison guards, where going to later, turning dark like Bane was nothing more than a rotten piece of fruit.

He somehow found it in himself to give a small, breathless laugh. Rotten fruit. That’s basically what his existence amounted to.

Bane let loose a defiant growl when he was grabbed by the arm and dragged onto his knees. He knew what was coming. He tried to rise to his feet but was immediately shoved back onto his shins. Sometime during the beating he had lost his hat, and he felt naked without it.

“If yer gonna kill me, least let me die on my feet like a man,” he rasped, spitting hot green blood out of his bleeding mouth.

“You’re not a man,” responded the tinny, hostile voice of a clone through his bucket. “You’re a piece of trash and you will be disposed of as such.”

Another clone spoke, the same voice holding the same hatred but from a different body.

“You deserve to suffer. To spend the rest of your life in a cage for what you’ve done. But you won’t. You’ll just escape again and our brothers will never have justice. They’ll never have peace.”

He bared his teeth when he felt the muzzle of a pistol pressed to the back of his head. Unnecessary in order to kill him, but the clone wanted him to feel it anyway.

“That’s why you have to die, bounty hunter scum. This is for Koho and Denal.”

Bane closed his eyes, his shoulder slumping as he felt something… unexpected. Something he couldn’t remember ever really feeling in his entire life. Closure. An end. All of his actions had been tallied and now they would be levied against him.

Finally, he could rest.

Instead of the oblivion Bane had expected (and craved, if he was being honest with himself), he heard one of the clones cry out in surprise, followed by the sound of something smashing into plastoid armor.

Bane opened his eyes and looked up in time to see the clone in front of him topple over as another clone flew into him.

What in the fuck?

Bane looked over his shoulder to see the most confusing scene he could have imagined. He blinked, both nauseous and lightheaded form the brutal beating he’d just endured, but his disorientation couldn’t explain what he was seeing now.

A man, by all accounts a bounty hunter, was making short work of the clones. Dodging under their fists, avoiding their blasterfire as if he could predict it, the figure dismantled the entire squad of clones without taking a single scratch. He punched, jabbed, kicked, and used their momentum to flip them into each other wish such grace and ease it was almost pretty.

But there was something familiar about the way the bounty hunter moved. The liquid grace and flexibility. Bane had seen it before.

And there was something about that outfit…

The figure walked over to him once his work was done. The clones were on the ground either unconscious or moaning in pain, and Bane was so taken aback all he could do was stare.

It was the helmet that made him remember.

“Hardeen?” he uttered in a painfully raspy voice.

Bane knew he was in trouble when his vision began to swim in and out of focus and the nausea intensified. He must have been worse off than he thought, especially considering he was clearly hallucinating.

The figure cocked his head at Bane, as if confused himself, and then he reached down and helped Bane to his feet. Bane wobbled, too woozy to knock him away, and he was further surprised when his rescuer removed his binders.

Bane looked up at him again, narrowing his eyes to force them to focus. Why had the stupid planet decided to go spinning off of its axis?

“Bane? Bane, can you hear me?”

Ah. Not Hardeen, then. Never Hardeen. Always him. Always Kenobi.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he growled, batting away the Jedi’s hand, embarrassed from his confusion. “What the fuck you doin’ here?”

The helmeted Jedi’s tone sounded a tad too amused as he said, “Looks like I’m rescuing you. Now, come on.”

Before Bane could protest or demand further explanation, Kenobi took off toward the wall of the pit, where he would no doubt scale it like some kind of spiced-up monkey-lizard.

Or maybe he would just jump the entire thing. Jedi were unhinged like that.

Bane scowled, grumbling to himself as he reached down to pick up his hat. He winced as he did so, but ignored the stabbing pain as he dusted off the brim, pleased to see it hadn’t been trampled in the fight.

The one good thing out of this goddamn bitch of a day.

Next Chapter

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Mama, We All Go To Hell (part two)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Abuse, non-sexual child grooming, gaslighting, victim blaming, mentions of CSA

——————

When Bessie was very young, before moving into the castle, her mother used to shove her into the dark, stuffy “Sinners Room.” Clouded by smoke, hot from the burners, and illuminated only by the crimson glow of the fires, Bessie was forced to pray on her knees for hours.

Mother said God didn’t like little girls who didn’t keep up with her studies. Mother said bad little girls needed to be punished. The Sinners Room was created for that very purpose. It became the bane of Bessie’s existence, something she sped by when she passed it in the hallway. She always left it gasping for clean air and soaked in sweat, much to her mother’s disgust. It became a place of nightmares for her, a replica of literal hell.

And yet…

Right now, Bessie would have much preferred the Sinner’s Room.

The water spraying out of the shower hose was scalding hot. Liquid fire was shooting out onto her bare back, purposely positioned to beat into her scars.

(Catherine has sneered when he saw them.

“Really Elizabeth? Why must you fight? You should’ve liked what the king did to you.”)

Not a day goes by where Bessie wonders if she should have liked Henry’s treatment. Hearing her mother say she wasn’t a victim strengthens that belief.

(“B-but mother… I was thirteen when he was twenty-three-”

“So? I was ten when I had you! Stop complaining!”)

Tears well up in Bessie’s eyes. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was just whining…

But when a hand rubs across her shoulder blades, she doesn’t register it as her mother’s hand, rather Henry’s. He would enjoy her like this- curled up in the bathtub, shivering, completely naked.

Her scars start to hurt. She wants to shove Catherine away, but she knows she’s not allowed to do that to her mother. She knows the punishment if she even tries to struggle.

(Henry was the same way. If she made too much noise, then he would use her mouth more. If she struggled, then he yanked her hair. If she didn’t sit still, he’d rake his nails down her back like claws.)

A tiny whimper wormed its way out of Bessie’s throat. The hands roughly scrubbing her shoulders freeze.

“Is something wrong?” Her mother’s voice crooned from behind her ear.

“N-no.” Bessie said, but her voice is tight and pitched.

“Are you sure?” Catherine’s breath is hot on the back of her neck. Her hands trail down, smooth against Bessie’s hips and waist, then back up with her nails digging in. She feels her daughter squirm slightly in her hands.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Bessie squeaked, her voice pitching again.

“Oh aren’t you pitiful.” Catherine said, continuing her scrubbing with a scratchy sponge. “You know, you wouldn’t be shaking like you are if you would have just enjoyed it. I would have.”

Bessie makes a tiny noise. The sponge makes her scars feel raw. Catherine smirks when the skin eventually breaks open and starts to bleed from exertion.

“You were with the king. When he was still married! And he chose my baby girl.” Catherine pressed a soft kiss to the back of Bessie’s neck, making her shiver. “My special girl…”

Butterflies flutter wildly in Bessie’s stomach when her mother calls her that. Even in a situation like this, she still craved those possessive titles.

“You know what I think, sweetheart?”

Bessie gave a tiny, “Hmm?” Her eyes were shut and she tried to just relax.

“I think you actually liked it.”

But any chances of slight relaxation was thrown out the window.

Bessie went rigid. Fear shoots through her veins. Her stomach turns.

“I think you were loving what the king was doing. I bet you were hungry for his touch. Isn’t that right?” Catherine chuckled and stroked the top of Bessie’s head, “Oh, you dirty little slut.”

Bessie whimpered quietly. Catherine continued to play with her wet hair, chuckling.

“You’re playing the victim, eh? To get everyone on your side, drawing them in. You temptress! You really are my daughter...”

—————

Even though Bessie assured her mother she could sleep on the couch, Catherine practically forced her to sleep in her bedroom. Usually, Bessie would be thrilled, but the feeling of fingers all over her body have yet to disappear and the venom-laced words from Catherine still ring in her ears.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she wanted it all along.

Catherine’s arms tighten around Bessie’s torso. She’s coiled in her embrace, held close to the woman’s chest as she sleeps. Oh, how she wished it was a protective move to keep her child safe.

No. It was to keep her in place so she couldn’t run. So she couldn’t escape.

Just like Henry used to do...

The night is long and silent. Bessie only falls asleep because she pretends it’s Howard holding her.

She misses Howard.

Her real mother.

—————

It’s been two weeks since then. Bessie starts staying the night at her mother’s apartment more often. She’s distancing herself from everyone, allowing Catherine to become her whole world, whether she likes it or not.

—————

Bessie sits at the edge of the couch, holding a DVD case in her hands. The old plastic case is cracked and battered, but the disc contained within escaped any damage. She’s watched it herself- an apparent classic titled “Rear Window”. She knows her mother will enjoy it. Bessie just needs to get up and go to bedroom, where Catherine is no doubt bored of the latest TV special. Catherine will love to watch this, she just knows it!

So why can’t she move?

Instead of joining her mother in the bed, she rubs her fingers nervously along the plastic, exasperating its tears. The beating of her heart is elevated, and her skull is clammy with sweat.

Fed up with herself, she jumps up, and makes it to the door in only a few swift strides. But her courage whimpers as she grabs the doorknob. She just has to open the door, but her arms are like lead.

Stupid, indecisive Bessie. Is it any wonder nobody likes you?

Rallying herself, she manages at last to open the door. Near sick with dreadful anticipation, she steps inside the bedroom, the DVD case held firmly against her chest.

Catherine doesn’t look over at her, not even when one of the floorboards creak. Bessie stops about a foot from the bed, which her mother is laying on, working dutifully on her laptop.

“Um.” Bessie’s voice is thready. “M-mother, I found this copy of a-a movie that I thought…” Her prepared request dies in her chest as Catherine finally looks over at her. Her grey eyes are cold, flat.

“You ‘thought’ what?”

“I…I thought.” She clutches the DVD tighter. Like a feeble shield. “I thought we could watch it…together?”

Bessie squirms under Catherine’s withering gaze.

“Why would I ever want to watch something with you? It’s not like you’d understand it, anyway.”

“I-I-” Bessie knew she was smart. Parr said she was, so it’s gotta be true. But she wasn’t one to disobey her mother, so she doesn’t say anything against the comment, “Maybe you could explain…”

Catherine snorts and Bessie shrinks backwards.

“I’m sorry-”

“Can’t speak properly without stuttering, teenage whore, too weird to land a real job. I’m the one stuck paying all the bills, and now you want me to take time out of the few free hours I have to attempt to do something with you?”

“N-Nevermind. It was stupid.”

Stupid, stupid Bessie.

Catherine’s gaze flicks up and down Bessie’s form.

“And for fuck’s sake, could you be wearing shorter shorts?” Catherine sneers.

Embarrassment rises to Bessie’s face. The shorts really weren’t that short; they just about reached her knees, but her mother was right. She must look ridiculous.

“You’re right. I’ll change. I-I have to go get ready for the show, anyway.”

Catherine shook her head and stood up. She strides over to Bessie, who shrinks back and flinches when she takes one of her hands. She runs her nails over the calluses that have formed from playing bass and made a tsktsktsk sound.

“What a waste.”

In one swift movement, she slams her daughter’s fingers in the door.

—————

Bessie’s hand was on fire. Every twitch of her finger sent strings of fire blazing through her nerves, alighting flames in her knuckles. All she could really do was bite her lip and hold back her tears when she got ready to perform.

(She was using a replacement bass. Joan has yet to get over the one that got destroyed. Bessie is convinced the music director now hates her.)

Aragon notices the girl’s obvious discomfort right at the start, along with the deep purple bruises on her fingers. She wants to ask about it, but she has to wait until after the show. The entire time, she keeps a close eye on Bessie, who is certainly gritting her teeth throughout the whole thing.

Once the curtain closes, Aragon skips stage door to go check on Bessie, who retreated to her dressing room. There, she finds the girl fumbling with her costume while hiccuping and sniffling.

“Elizabeth?”

The girl freezes, inhaling sharply.

“Elizabeth, what’s going on? Why is your hand like that?”

A tiny whimper bubbles forth, but Bessie is quick to bite it back. Aragon approaches her slowly, so slowly, and she completely forgets that she’s supposed to despise the girl.

“Elizabeth,” Aragon said again, this time much softer. She circles around to where she’s facing Bessie and her heart clenches at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Bessie nods. But then Aragon looks at her the way she used to, when she was hurt or sad or ill as a child, and it all came crashing down onto her.

All at once, Bessie shatters.

Aragon barely has enough time to catch the girl before she hits the ground when her knees go out. She lowers her to the floor and the poor thing is instantly clinging her, digging her face into her shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably. The queen’s hands hover over her back in shock before holding her tightly, practically bundling her against her chest.

And she finds that she doesn’t even care about the studded leather scratching against her or the fact that Bessie was making a mess on her shoulder.

Bessie cries painful hard for a long time. Weeks worth of terror and trauma and anguish and agony coming back with so much power and force that it almost makes her sick. She coughs and wheezes and hyperventilates in Aragon’s arms, who can only watch in horror because she never really knew how bad the girl’s condition was until right now.

(That certainly made her guilty.)

Eventually, Bessie cried herself out to near exhaustion. She was slumped in Aragon’s lap, panting and breathing heavily. That’s when Aragon finally decided to ask what had happened and Bessie doesn’t hold back. She just doesn’t care anymore. She tells the queen everything.

And Aragon is livid.

“Jane,” Aragon called, “Jane!”

The queen hurries in, eyeing Bessie worriedly. They all had heard the crying, but stayed out of it at Aragon’s command.

“Get Katherine, will you? Poor thing needs her mother so badly.” Aragon sighed, stroking the top of Bessie’s head while she said this.

Jane nodded and left the room with one final glance in Bessie’s direction. It isn’t long until a hot pink whirlwind enters the dressing room. Howard is immediately down by Aragon’s side, and the elder queens starts to carefully transfer Bessie into her lap.

“Shh, shh,” Aragon murmured when Bessie whimpered softly, “Hush, darling. It’s just your mother.”

Howard quirked a brow at the pet name Aragon used. And if her calming down Bessie wasn’t weird enough...

However, she didn’t dwell on that long when the shivering girl now curled up in her arms began to apologize. Her voice was so weak and hoarse, and fresh tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Howard soothed, rocking her daughter, “Don’t apologize. Whatever happened is not your fault. I promise.”

“B-but-” Bessie was cut off by her phone going on several times. She whimpered softly and Howard’s hand came up to the back of her head to press her face back against her chest, shielding her protectively. Gingerly, Aragon checks the messages and, like that, she’s storming out of the room like a livid lioness that was primed for blood.

If Howard weren’t holding her precious daughter, she would have done the exact same thing.

Where are you?

You better get your ass back home in ten minutes or else

I’m going to scrape you raw

Filthy slut. I know what you’ve done.

Nobody will ever love you. You’re a disgusting whore. The only person who can love someone like you is me.

I’m going to make you bleed, little girl.

You were loved.

Bessie sobbed audibly into Howard’s chest, her entire body seizing with a painful spasm. Howard drops the phone and pulled her daughter closer, rubbing up and down her spine to calm her.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl, I’m so sorry,” She whispered into Bessie’s messy hair, “That horrible woman will never touch you again, you hear me? I promise. I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

Bessie nodded feebly. She dissolves into tired sniffles and hiccups, too weak to cry anymore. The sight of her, shivering and pale and so, so scared, made Howard’s heart tighten.

“Mama, I don’t f-feel good,” Bessie whispered. “Wanna go home...please...”

“Of course,” Howard said, “You must be so tired. How does cuddling up and watching a movie sound? Or you can just rest. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

Bessie nods again.

It seemed that the latter was the thing that ended up happening. Bessie is unconscious by the time they get back to the queen’s house, still shaking and whimpering, even in her blacked out state. Howard gets her changed into the softest pajamas she has, which the girl barely wakes up for, and by the time she’s finished she’s limp in the queen’s arms again.

Aragon finally comes home an hour later. She goes to Howard’s room to find the queen watching TV with Bessie bundled up beside her. A tiny smile twitches on her lips.

“How is she?” She whispered.

“Shaken up.” Howard answered, threading her fingers through her daughter’s hair, “What did that woman do to her?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Aragon said while crossing over to sit on the edge of the bed, “You may get a little worked up and that might startle Bessie.”

Howard nodded.

“Look at you,” She teased to try and lighten the mood, “You care about her.”

Aragon snorted lightly.

“You forget,” She said, “I was her mother before you.”

A tiny mumble caught her attention. She and Howard both looked down to see Bessie squirming slightly. Her eyes were shut tightly.

“Mama...” She whimpered.

“Shh, shh,” Howard immediately began to soothe her, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Then, she glanced at Aragon, who was looking at Bessie with worried eyes. Reaching out, she takes the queen’s hand and sets it on Bessie’s head. Alighting old maternal instincts, Aragon’s fingers immediately began to stroke through the girl’s hair, making Howard smile.

“We’re both here.”

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 15- The Incident

Time to crank out some angst! If you comment, try not to spoil what happens in here pls

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Eryn muttered as he and Linaeus made their way to the governor’s residence. The sun began to set over the mountains as twilight soon came. The streets were empty, save for a few guards on their patrols, all of whom gave Linaeus a quick salute.

“Come on, Eryn,” Linaeus whispered, “I’ve heard you’ve done much worse than this.”

“Usually I get the basic information before jobs like these. Guard patrols, entrances, exits, things like that. Going in blind is an easy way to get killed.”

“Not to worry, just stick with me until I’m alone with the governor and you’ll have free reign of the place.”

“What do you need me to find again?”

“I’ve been giving my reports to Governor Haadrikson for the past month. I just need you to either find them or find out what he did with them. Without him knowing, of course.”

“Pretty underhanded, for a man of the law such as yourself.”

“But just the right kind of underhandedness for a cutthroat outlaw, like you.”

Eryn shrugged his arms, “Eh, can’t argue with that.”

“Alright, now that we’ve established that, how and why did you get to be Elsa’s personal guard? Something about a shooting?”

“Long story short, some old bastard tried killing Elsa in broad daylight, I stepped in, took a bullet, and, well, here we are.”

Linaeus leaned closer to Eryn, “If you’re here to kill her, why save her?”

“I forgot what she looked like, okay? Not like I was able to see her before, you know.” “I guess ‘basic information’ doesn’t include appearance, then?”

“I wasn’t expecting to run into her on the street. Monarch’s don’t really do that anywhere else.”

“Elsa’s different like that, if you haven’t noticed. Alright, looks like we’re here.”

The two men stood in front of the large mansion that had greeted Eryn and Elsa when they first arrived. It resembled Arendelle castle, though not anywhere near as large and much duller looking without magical ice accenting the building. A small gate stood between the two of them and the palace itself, manned by a younger looking man, no older than eighteen. He stood at attention as he gripped his poleaxe tightly. Eryn looked over to Linaeus, who seemed to be chewing on his lower lip and clenching his fists.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Lenny.”

“It’s just, I-I’ve never gone behind a government official’s back before. I haven’t been this nervous since-”

“Since we accidentally spilled mead into the horses’ feeding trough when we were recruits?”

“Since you spilled mead in their trough, you mean?”

“How could I forget you grovelling for mercy when the general asked about it? We ended up cleaning the barracks for a month.”

“Because you tried to lie about it,” Linaeus let out a small chuckle, “Said that Valkyries came down and hid it in the troughs-”

“-so that the gods would sober up,” they both said at the same time. The two men let out a hearty chuckle as they reminisced on a better time.

“...Linaeus,” Eryn said once they were done laughing, “Once this is all done, can you check on Rolond and Astrid for me? I doubt I’ll have time before I leave to say my goodbyes.”

“I was planning on checking in on them once I went to verify your claims against Urlaf. But that’s neither here nor there, we have a job to do.”

Eryn nodded as they made their way up to the young man guarding the entrance. He had a feeling that Elsa goaded Linaeus to look into Urlaf’s crime, but he was still thankful nonetheless. Eryn let out a deep sigh, thinking about how he wouldn’t be able to see Malia get the peace and justice she was denied so many years ago. But he knew that it was for the best that he disappeared, for himself and everyone else. The young guard snapped to attention as Linaeus walked up to him, hands clasped behind his back.

“Captain Torvond, sir!” The guard saluted, raising his hand to his head.

“At ease, son,” Linaeus commanded as the young man relaxed his arm, “I’m here to speak with Governor Haadrikson. Is he available?”

“Yes, sir. He’s currently in his office at the moment.”

“Take me to him, then.” As the two soldiers began walking past the gate, Eryn followed suit, only to have the young guard point his poleaxe at him.

“No citizens are allowed in here!” he growled.

“Keep your pants on, soldier. Er- I mean, ‘Derrik,’ is here with me.” The soldier immediately returned his poleaxe to its resting position, fear enveloping his face. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, cadet. Now, to the governor, if you will.”

The young soldier turned around and led Linaeus and Eryn inside the mansion. Linaeus leaned back to Eryn and whispered, “What’s your alias’s last name?”

“What?” “Just in case Haadrikson needs to know.”

“Ormeister. And the story is I’m from Weselton.” Linaeus simply nodded as they entered the front door into the main hall. It was certainly in Arendellian fashion; crocuses were intricately painted into the walls and carved into the railing of the staircase in front of them, green and purple banners hung from the walls, and various paintings of the kings and queens of old lined the room. At the base of the staircase stood a fat man,lavishly dressed in a suit that barely fit his wide frame, discussing something with a guard. He was balding at the top, with wisps of dark brown hair on the sides of his head and a rather short and thin beard. He turned to view the men that arrived and gave them a somewhat surprised and forced grin.

“Ah, Captain!” he said, his voice heavy and lethargic, “How… unexpected!” “Apologies, Governor Haadrikson,” Linaeus said, “I just needed to discuss a few things about the city’s defenses. The queen has approved a few more soldiers to be transferred to Fjellby.”

Governor Haadrikson beamed at the information, “Yes, yes, wonderful!” He then turned to face Eryn, “And who’s this?”

“Derrik Ormeister, sir. He’s here on behalf of the queen.”

The governor clasped his hands together, “Ah, yes. I’ve heard about you, Mr. Ormeister, and your heroic deed.”

Eryn gave a small bow, “It was nothing, sir. I’m sure anyone else would’ve done the same.”

“A commendable effort, nonetheless. Now, captain, shall we discuss these matters in private?”

“Yes, sir.”  The two of them proceeded up the stairs as the man Haadrikson was talking to returned to his post. Eryn proceeded up the stairs with them, tailing behind ever so slightly as they discussed a few things. The hallways were similar to that of the castle, but instead of portraits of Anna and Elsa, they were filled with portraits of the governor, slightly thinned out and performing various heroic deeds. Eryn rolled his eyes as he continued to follow the governor and Linaeus until they reached a large oak door embroidered with gold trimming. He watched as the two of them entered inside and quickly slammed the door shut, leaving Eryn alone in the hall.

“Pompous cock,” Eryn muttered as he surveyed the immediate area. No guards around, thank God. Made his job a lot easier. “... Now where to start?”

XXXXXX

Kristoff ran his finger across the spines of the library’s books, scanning their titles with determination. True, he had tossed the Arendolk into the fjord, but something still didn’t sit right with him. If the dagger was so important to this region, why would someone from Weselton have it? He remembered hearing something about Aren the Red during the few talks he had with Elsa, but that was a while ago. Anna would most likely know about Aren the Red and the Arendolk’s history, but he didn’t want to interrupt her meeting with the council. He never understood why the council scheduled meetings this late, but he didn’t bother to argue. They’d just brush him off as some uncultured barbarian or something, anyway.

“Ah, this one should work,” he said to himself as he pulled an old looking book off of the shelf, “Histories of the Peoples of Arendelle.” It was a massive book, bound in leather with the book’s title calligraphed along the spine and on the front. Kristoff cracked the book open, searching for any information regarding the knife. After a moment of searching, Kristoff found an entire section on the founding of Arendelle, including a section on the Arendolk. Kristoff read the passage in his head:

THE ARENDOLK: forged around 840, little is known about this mysterious weapon. It was the personal hunting knife of Aren the Red, later Aren I, the founder of the Kingdom of Arendelle. The knife was lost in 890, after Aren’s son, Alen Arenson, killed his father to gain the throne. No record exists on what happened to it after this date, nor if it still exists. Ancient Arendellian legend says that Skyne, bastard son of the moon god Máni in ancient myth, was sealed within the blade by trolls, but this is unfounded.

Kristoff closed the book with a loud groan. It was a step in the right direction, but it was incredibly brief. He returned to the shelves, peering at the books, when he found something peculiar. A miniature old book, barely held together by a few bindings and leather, sat behind where Histories of the Peoples of Arendelle rested. Kristoff pulled the book out and flipped it open. It appeared to be a series of ancient poems and stories, many of them translated from ancient runes. Kristoff read the first one aloud:

Hail to Aren Redbeard,

The Conqueror of men

Who banished wicked Skyne,

The Son of the Blood Moon,

With the help of stone-men,

And united our lands

And people together

For thirty years you reigned,

As a wise and just king

Many years of peace came

Until the back-stabbing

Betrayed by next of kin

Felled by blade of Skyne’s bane

May you drink with Odin

In the Great Hall above

Kristoff scanned through the other passages, trying to track where the knife went as the years went on, but these poems held no more information. All he knew was that Aren’s son killed him, presumably with the dagger, and not much else. He returned to the shelf, scrounging around for any more history books.

It was then when he heard a loud explosion, coming from the direction of the meeting hall

Moments prior…

“That should cover just about everything, Your Highness,” Kai stated. The sun was beginning to set behind the large window behind Anna’s seat as she glanced over the various documents sprawled across the large mahogany desk before organizing them into neat little stacks. The other advisors began gathering their own documents as they shuffled out the door

“Excellent,” Anna stated as she placed her quill back into her inkwell.

“I must say, princess, you managed that incredibly well. The queen would be most proud of your work here.”

“Thank you, Kai, it means a lot to me,” Anna beamed. Rarely did anyone praise Anna on her own work, save for Kristoff and Elsa. Most advisors and diplomats seemed only interested in how Anna stacked up to Elsa (which most of the time she didn’t). Hearing Kai say this filled her with a great deal of confidence.

“Will you be needing anything else this evening, Your Highness?”

Before Anna could say anything, a loud crash from behind distracted her. She rose from her seat and peered around, trying to find the source of the noise. To her right, a large black ball sat on the floor, nestled in a sea of shattered glass while it… hissed? It was then when she noticed a large wick protruding out the top, currently lit and burning down to the base.  She reeled back in horror as she realized what it was

“BOMB!” was all she was able to get out when she was thrown across the room with a deafening explosion. Her vision went white as her entire body screamed out in agony. She couldn’t feel her right leg, only emptiness and pain. It felt like she had been kicked by a horse multiple times. Anna couldn’t hear anything but constant ringing as her eyes readjusted. Kai was laying on the floor, motionless as two guards stood above him. Kristoff stood over her, gingerly propping her torso up. His face was drained of color as his warm brown eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He was shouting something, possibly her name, but all she could hear was constant ringing.

“K...Kristoff…” Anna muttered as her body went limp and her eyes closed softly.

“Anna! Stay with me!” Kristoff pleaded, cupping her head in his hand, “Nononono! Don’t leave me!” He placed an ear over her heart, praying to God for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Kristoff let out a small sigh of relief.

“Sir Bjorgman, the royal steward is…d-dead,” one of the guards explained, “what are your orders?”

Kristoff hoisted Anna into his arms, “Get any doctors you can find. And send someone to Fjellby to inform the queen.”

“Yes, sir!”

The soldier ran out of the room with haste as Kristoff rushed out of the room with Anna in his arms.

“Anna…” Kristoff whispered, “I-I’m sorry…”

XXXXXX

“Hmmm, not this one,” Eryn said as he closed another door. This was about the fourth or fifth room he’s checked and there was nothing of interest in there once again. Those reports had to be somewhere. As Eryn snuck around, his mind wandered to what he would do once he was done with this. Corona was a decent option, as it was the closest country to Arendelle. But its alliance with Arendelle might make things difficult. Maldonia was attractive too because it was distant and slightly isolationist. No, Eryn was too different looking for Maldonia. To hell with it, he’d just be better off finding the nearest cliff and jumping. Less mess, plus no one would know who he was. Dying a nobody, Eryn thought, Like father, like son, as they say.

His mind wandered back to Elsa. No way in hell he would be able to go back to her once this was all over with. Eryn wasn’t sure if he could look her in the eyes anymore. For the first time in his life, Eryn felt disgust in himself and his actions. What in the hell did this woman do to me? He shook off this feeling as he peered into another room.

This room was much more spacious than many of the others. It appeared to be a guest bedroom, with a large king size bed in front of a gothic looking fireplace. On the nightstand just to the bed’s left, Eryn could make out a stack of papers cluttering the top of it.

“Bingo!” Eryn said as he stealthily entered the room. Reaching over to the papers, Eryn grabbed one and began reading it. No doubt, it was one of Linaeus’s reports, discussing how there was no danger in or around the settlement. With no hesitation, Eryn scooped up the letters in his hands, placing them in various pockets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smaller letter lightly float down to the floor. Eryn scooped it up, unfolded it, and began reading:

Good News,

I’ve managed to hire a killer out of some backwater town to kill the queen. Someone familiar with the region would have a far better chance at assassinating the sorceress than either of our men. And if he were to fail, The Southern Isles and Weselton would appear innocent. Just have Haadrikson continue requesting more and more soldiers for this town so that we can prepare the invasion fleet. I had to pay an exorbitant amount for this “assassin,” so I better be getting a good return on my investment.

Instead of a signature on the bottom, Eryn noticed a wax seal stamped onto the parchment paper. The symbol of the Duchy of Weselton was embossed into the wax. 

“I was hired by-”

“The Duke of Weselton, yes,” A mysterious voice said behind him accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. Eryn turned around to see who it was that cornered him. A young looking man, about the same age as Eryn, greeted him with a small revolver in his hand. His emerald eyes looked Eryn up and down, surveying Eryn with intrigue, “you’re the assassin he hired? I was expecting someone… older.”

“Wait, I recognize you. You’re-”

“Prince Hans of the Southern Isles,” The man gave an exaggerated hand wave, “or former prince. But that doesn’t matter anyway, since once the queen is dead, I’ll have this country all to myself. She is dead, isn’t she.”

“Well first of all, you can put that thing down. And second of all, I’ve come to tell you that the deal’s off. Now take your gun and-”

“There is no getting out of this one, Mr. Odrikson,” Hans put the gun up to Eryn’s face, “But I can tell you’re not playing this game anymore. Very well.” With that, Hans pulled the trigger. Eryn brought his hands up to protect his face when he felt a slight weight in his hand. As he lifted his head, he saw the dagger, its runes shining brightly, as shadowy tendrils emerged from Eryn’s wrist, suspending the bullet in mid air. The familiar sound of Skyne filled Eryn’s mind, and in a familiar angry tone as well.

You have a lot of explaining to do, boy...

[thelightofthebane]

To be or not to be cursed

Summary: “You broke up with me, but in the end, you are going to come back to me. Because I’m the only one who can love you, darling.” 

He wanted to throw up. Even a pure word like love sounded painful coming from Camille. He felt so dizzy, he barely noticed when she finally left him alone.

Always alone.

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alexander Lightwood

Tags: Alternate Universe, Human AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Prom, past toxic relationship, Alec doesn't give a shit about Camille, Alec is a tactician, Izzy and Jace are the best siblings, Emotionally Hurt Magnus Bane, Angst with a Happy Ending

I hope you like this and it makes you smile, @magnuslightwoodalecbane

You can also read here: ao3

_______________________________________

Magnus was proud of himself. The gym was so beautifully arranged, it certainly would be the most amazing prom NY Institute High has ever had. Being in the Student Council had its perks, one of them claiming beforehand the leadership of the Party Organization Committee. Alongside Maia, Lily, Clary, Simon, and Meliorn, they arranged the entire gym with all the beautiful flowers, colorful lights, pictures, masks. The playlist was carefully created and the food and drinks picked with the utmost delight.

The entire school only talked about the prom and everyone was excited. Teenagers rushed every day to invite partners with the hopes of getting the best date. This was something Magnus was pretty looking forward to. He was popular, had the good graces of most of the students and professors. Even other school’s staff members adored Magnus Bane.

However, until the prom eve, nobody asked him to be their date.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

Two days before, he even dared to take matters into his hands and bolded asked a boy from another class. He was rejected.

Then, he tried a girl from another year and got the same answer. Sometimes, when he turned and just looked at someone, they would run away.

He felt cursed.

“Why, darling? Having problems to get a date?” A feminine voice called and he trembled, feeling something terrible crawl under his skin. Camille.

“What do you want?” He growled, forcing himself to look at her. The same vicious lip-tint smile, predator eyes and six-inch heels that only existed to step onto someone.

She smiled dangerously and approached her ex-boyfriend, resting a well-manicured hand on his face. Magnus slapped it, backing slightly to keep a safe distance.

“Poor little thing,” her smirk only grew, unbashful, toxic. “I told you once. Nobody would ever date you. Bang you? Perhaps, you are a good sex toy. But date you? You are too much for anyone, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus clenched his jaw, using each drop of self-restraint to not show how her words still hurt him. He was almost sure he wasn’t doing a good job.

“You broke up with me, but in the end, you are going to come back to me. Because I’m the only one who can love you, darling.”

He wanted to throw up. Even a pure word like love sounded painful coming from Camille. He felt so dizzy, he barely noticed when she finally left him alone.

Always alone.

~*~

Soon, he found out the problem thanks to his best friends, Catarina and Ragnor. Camille threated the entire school – whoever tried to go to the prom with Magnus would know hell. Being one of the most popular of the school and coming from a very rich and influential family, nobody dared to go against her. There was a rumor that one freshman even went to the hospital after a mysterious food poison.

Sighing hopelessly, Magnus accepted that he would have to go alone to his last high school party.

Or not.

On the day of said party, before going home to take a bath and prepare himself, he went to the Student Council classroom to put back some props, when something caught his eyes. On the desk he usually used during meetings, there were a small jasmine flower and a card.

- Wanna be my date? Wait for me at 8PM?

A. L. -

Magnus’ hands trembled so much, the card fell. His head automatically snapped towards the main desk in the room. The desk of the tall, dark and handsome Council’s president. Alexander Lightwood.

For a long time, Magnus had a big crush on him, even attempted some flirtation, but he always thought it was unilateral. Moreover, he was sure Alec didn’t like parties, and a few days ago overheard him telling his brother Jace he wasn’t interested in the prom. Then… Why?

Maybe it was a prank? But… that calligraphy… it was Alexander’s.

He breathed deeply. Well, just one way to know.

~*~

At 8pm, his doorbell ringed. Slightly apprehensive, Magnus – who was already ready with a burgundy tuxedo, hair stylized with gold strikes and the most gorgeous combination of eyeliner and gold eye shadow – opened the front door.

For his surprise, and blissfully happiness, it was indeed Alexander. He was wearing a dark suit with a navy blue bowtie and was carrying a jasmine bouquet.

“Wow,” his jaw dropped a little bit as soon as he scanned Magnus from head to toe, and Magnus giggled, happier than before. “Er… I… You… This… You… For…” He babbled, confused, not knowing if he looked at Magnus or extended the bouquet for him.

Magnus decided to save the poor boy and took the bouquet. “Thank you, darling. They are beautiful, just like you.” He winked to Alec, not missing the shy smile with a glinting of something more in those mesmerizing hazel eyes.

“Yeah, hm. Let’s go, then?” Alec waved towards his car and Magnus nodded, feeling his heart becoming fuller by the minute.

~*~

“So, didn’t you hear about Camille’s threat or Alexander Lightwood is a man of dangerous adventures?” Magnus broke the comforting silence inside the car while Alec drove to their school.

“Eh… I heard about it, and I don’t really care about her. I have more important things to worry about than her pettiness.”

“Like what?”

“Your happiness,” Alec said without wasting any second, as if the answer was too obvious, an unbreakable truth.

Magnus Bane wasn’t one to blush, but he definitely felt his cheeks hotter than usual. His heart thumped so loud inside his chest, he almost asked Alec to turn on the radio to avoid being heard, if that was possible.

“I thought you didn’t like parties and wasn’t going to this one.”

“Yeah, I mean. My siblings would have dragged me anyway. I wanted to invite you as my date, but I figured out you would have a long queue of suitors waiting to go with you, and then I wouldn’t have the slightest chance. When I heard nobody had asked you, I thought it was some kind of lucky or someone above telling me I could have a chance after all. I took the opportunity and here we are.” Alec smiled so widely now, Magnus felt his heart would certainly break his ribs.

“Also,” he continued, unwavering. “Camille can’t hurt me. We just have a couple of months before finishing high school, and then everyone will go their separate ways. If I get lucky, I will be on the other side of the United States and she won’t get near me.”

“Oh, what university did you choose?”

~*~

When they arrived at NY Institute High, they were already immersed in a pleasuring conversation. Even if they’ve already known each other a bit thanks to the weekly Student Council meetings, they never had the chance to talk alone and to get to know the other better. They find out they shared a lot of common likings, even if their lifestyles were so different. They had a similar sense of humor and wits, and the best part: they applied to the same university.

Everything seemed perfect and both were smiling and laughing at the time they entered the gym, where the music was already playing and people were chatting and dancing.

Until a bucket with water and a lot of ice fell from above directly onto Alec. The music paused and a heavy silence filled the space.

Alec shivered from the cold and even coughed a bit. Magnus panicked, not knowing what to do first, but soon got himself together and took his handkerchief to at least dry Alec’s face.

“Well, well, well. What a pleasure. It seems we got your type, Magnus. A wet boy ready to be touched by you.” Camille teased, approaching them with a sly smile. Magnus glared at her but said nothing.

“You really are despicable,” Alec said instead, then turned to Magnus. “I’ll be back.”

And he was gone.

~*~

After the little show Camille presented, everyone resumed their own things. The music started again and the chats got louder. Magnus drank four entire glasses of fruit punch – which he was slightly sure someone had already dropped alcohol there – and sighed, upset. That was it. Alexander wasn’t going to come back and he lost him for good.

Damn Camille and her nightmarish existence.

He was really cursed.

“Hey.” A gentle voice called him, but the surprise almost made him drop his now empty glass. It was Alexander. He came back. “Sorry for taking so long. I had a problem with one of the buttons.” He frowned, wrinkling his nose. He was wearing a dark green button-up shirt and dark jeans, his hair a little bit damped. Still gorgeous. Very, very gorgeous.

“No, that’s… That’s okay.” I’m just happy you didn’t leave. Magnus thought, biting his lower lip. “But how…” He waved towards the new clothes, and Alec playfully grinned.

“Earlier, I brought this and put inside my locket. When I heard about Camille’s threat, my siblings and I sat for a whole hour discussing what she could probably do against me. Izzy suggested something with water and prompted me to leave here some spare clothes, just to be sure. That was the only suit I had, but if you’re okay having me like this, I’m okay too.”

“I’m more than okay.” Magnus grinned too, almost not believing in the existence of such a man. He prepared backup plans for Camille’s attack. What he did to deserve such a wonderful date?

“Right, c’mon then.” He offered his hand to Magnus and then guided him to the dance floor.

~*~

Camille tried some things to blow up Magnus and Alec’s night. Some of the things included hurting them physically and even trying to humiliate Alec, outing his sexuality for the entire school. Not that it was a secret, but he never went out there saying ‘Hello, I’m Alec and I’m gay.’ Only his friends knew it, and now all the school knew it. Each attempt against Alec made Magnus angrier at Camille and extremely worried that Alec would snap and think Magnus wasn’t worth all of that. After all, he was too much, right?

However, each time Alec would reassure him it was alright and he wasn’t going anywhere.

When the king and the queen of the night were announced, and to nobody’s surprise Camille being the queen, Magnus tried to pull Alec to outside so they wouldn’t have to watch that horror show. Alec, however, stopped Magnus and signaled for them to stay and watch the coronation.

As soon as the crown was put on Camille’s head, an almost imperceptible powder fell on her and she started to scratch all over her body. All the students started to laugh while she screamed and cursed everyone.

“You know… Izzy is still in the first year, but she wants to go to Med school and become a pathologist. One of her favorite hobbies is messing with some substances. Have I told you how she has a big pot of itching powder? I miiiight have entertained her the idea of using a little bit tonight.” Alec pretended to see something very interesting on the ceiling, trying not to laugh. “She even said that I am the best big brother in the world for letting her. Jace was really pissed.”

At that, Magnus laughed.

~*~

The prom wasn’t perfect as Magnus had expected with so many disastrous things happening, but somehow it was everything he needed. People had fun, so that’s that. Camille didn’t bother them for the rest of the night, but being part of the Party Organization Committee, he still had some responsibilities to supervise.

In the end, when everyone went home, the music stopped and the lights were all on, dissipating the prom’s magic, he still lingered a little bit behind to make sure there weren’t any major problems. The next day he would have to deal with the cleaning, but this was another issue and he didn’t want to think about that now. Not when his date was still there with him, checking something on his phone while waiting for Magnus.

“Everything is in order, Mr. President. We can go home now.” Magnus smiled sweetly, approaching Alec. He was gifted with another beaming smile from him, and for a moment Magnus thought his knees would finally give out.

“Actually, there is still one last thing we should do.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Alec didn’t waste time and after grabbing Magnus’ hand, pulled him towards the gym’s center.

“Would you give me the pleasure of one last dance, Mr. Bane?”

There wasn’t any music anymore, but they didn’t need one.

“Of course, Mr. President.” Magnus didn’t think twice and both engaged in a slow and sweet dance, the closest from each other as their bodies would let them.

Magnus didn’t know if it was possible to get happier. And maybe, maybe, fall a bit more in love with his tall and gorgeous date.

He also didn’t know how much time passed, but one minute their bodies were pressed, and in another, their lips were pressed.

They kissed tenderly.

Wistfully.

Hotly.

Desperately.

Magnus thought that yes, it was possible to fall more in love.

And that he wasn’t cursed after all.

[vcngttpt-a]

ALL OF THEM. @mun meme ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

@deceptivetreat || mun q&a                      

                            ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

||you are. the bane. of my existence. 

☯ Is there a muse you’ve always wanted to play?

hmm ig i’ll go with canon for this one because i have many ocs, but uh i really wanna write for seto from fragile dreams. i used to have an ask blog for him back in the day but that died quickly seeing as how dead the fandom is so- but i do love him with all my heart and i would love to be able to someday write him or something

♣ Is there an author(s) that you look up to with your writing skills?

rick riordan, marissa meyer and michelle rowen. i’ve read their books throughout middle school and high school and i still find myself going back to reread their books because i just love how their words flow as well as how engaging their plots are. i honestly hope i can reach rick riordan levels of skill whenever i get around to finishing my own novel!

♧ Is there an RP partner(s) that you credit for becoming a better writer?

one would have to be an old rp friend that we sadly don’t talk to anymore since she was the first one i started writing with a lot more back in high school as well as the one who would give me advice on how to improve and just be patient with me when i go stuck with writing our threads and also mikey (@snw-cnvs) since he also supports me outside of rp’ing to get me to write actually fiction drabbles. i just wish i could finish them lmao

♥ What’s your favorite ship with your muse?

all of my ships with mikey no i’m joking lolol i really love my ship with haneul because i’ve had him for two years now and he’s grown a lot because of his ship. he’s someone whose never believed that love was real and sure their relationship is a little rocky, but they both don’t really have the proper understanding for love until waaaay later. i also really love how whenever he’s with obe, he’s able to pull out this different side of haneul, someone whose so overconfident and quick to words, becomes at a loss for words and questioning himself a lot. i just love them best otp 

♡ Would you ever write a poly ship?

sure, i’d be down for it as long as our muses have the right chemistry as well as if i know both muns pretty well and if they’re also comfortable with it.

♦ What’s an AU that you’ve always wanted?

answered

♢ What’s an AU that you think just won’t work with your muse?

any au that causes too much of a shift in my muses’ personality. i’m usually willing to try any au but if it becomes too much that my muse basically becomes a different person i don’t like it. 

♔ What’s your opinion on teacher/student verses? Do you have any of these as threads?

eeeeh i dont really care, but i work at a school so the thought makes me like uncomfy because i don’t wanna think about work lolol but its also like fiction and i’m able to tell the difference between fiction and reality so yea. also no i don’t have any threads like that

♕ Do you like magic!anons? Why or why not?

not really. it became too much of a thing to deal with back in the day. i just like the simple things

⚜ What is the best time to write for you? Why?

nighttime because i’m fuckin nocturnal even tho i have a day job rip my sleep schedule and ever growing eye bags

★ What type of historical AU would you like to do one day?

Victorian era, or the prohibition era don’t ask me why i like them i don’t even know myself i just know i wouldn’t mind

☆ What type of fantasy AU would you like to do one day?

all of them. i’m a huge slut for fantasy in general. its one of the best things i love the most. 

☄ Do you think your muse would have liked going to high school sports games? Do you or did you go to high school sports games?

haneul: no, he’s not into those things, but also he was home schooled until he went to college

eiji: he used to play soccer in high school so yea

reese: do magic tournaments count? cause if so then yes

sage: no, i was the loser who hung out at the library with friends to sit around and read books and manga 

☾ Do you like writing smut? Why or why not?

okay, if it wasn’t obvious i used to rp back in middle school through high school and on tumblr and i have done my fair share of the sin once i turned 18. nowadays i’m pretty much like eh, but ig i could try again if the need arises, but it also depends on my mood ig? i’d have to write it with someone i’m completely comfortable writing with but also even then it’s gotten to the point i’m more like ig we can just fade to black yea? 

tbh i feel i got all the urges to write sin outta me when i was on my old en blog lmao i had so many smut threads on there i’m ashamed 

☽ Do you like writing angst? Why or why not?

yes god i love being able to break my muses because it’s so fun. like yea it also hurts because that’s my kid i’m hurting but i’m okay with that. it’s just something that adds realness to them because the world sure as fuck ain’t rainbow and sunshine

☼ What’s an FC that you’re dying to use? Why?

i have these icons that i squirreled away for awhile now and i really wanna use them but my brain is too dead to figure out who he could work for. like he was my first thought for reese but he didn’t really give off the right reese vibes so maybe i’ll dig around my oc bin and see who looks the closest to him 

or i cave and just make a brand new oc for him

☀ What’s an FC that you desperately want to play with? Why?

i’m not really picky about what fc write with tbh 

☁ What’s an FC that you refuse to play with? Why?

not really refuse to play - more like i’m eh with. if only because en used to be my main chara for a long time like, i was so deep into the magical boy lore that a good chunk of my headcanons became canon. but also it just…leaves a bad taste in my mouth even more so since the drama that happened in that fandom left me filled with fear and hesitance to rp for a good chunk like before. it just brings back bad memories and i thought i was moving past it when i was thinking about using him for reese but alas. some memories don’t leave

maybe one day i’ll either get to write en again or i can use his face as fc but we’ll see

☂ How does your muse spend a rainy day? How do you spend a rainy day?

haneul: he loves the rain and he’ll spend it either under an umbrella or just sitting there in the rain just letting it wash away his thoughts and fears for a little bit 

eiji: he’d spend it indoors playing a video game or playing with seto

reese: he’d prob be dumb and splash in the puddles because he likes to enjoy the little things. other times he’ll just ignore it and stay indoors either hanging with friends or studying and practicing his magic for his school’s next tournament 

sage: i like to spend it just lookin out my window with my kitty on my chest. i love the sound of it against the sidewalk and streets. 

☃ If your muse was cartoonized, what would their FC be? Why?

uh idk how to answer this tbh 

☺ What’s a character that you desperately want your muse to play with? Why?

toshi @ haneul *stares at @snw-cnvs* and also reese @ momo *stares at @deceptivetreat* but also i just want everyone to bother my boys i love them so much. 

☹ What’s a character that you refuse to play with? Why?

idk i’m pretty open for any character

☢ Are there any ships that you would like to write for one day? Any that you wouldn’t?

uh dunno. i’m open for any ships that have the right chemistry tbh just not haneul since he’s already taken

☣ What’s one thing that will make you drop a thread?

useless drama and or if i can’t seem to figure out where the thread is going for our muses. like if they don’t clash well i don’t wanna give tryin to grasp at straws. but i’m always down to try again unless it ends up the same than welp

♨ What’s a muse that you wished had lasted, but didn’t?

aaaah my supernatural brothers!!! i love them so much but they didn’t last and i’m not sure if i’m goin to add them on here or leave them in the void. 

❀ Do you like reblog karma? Why or why not?

i’m gonna sound old but i don’t know what that is hold on. *googles* oh okay yea no. that seems like too much pressure to do and i have too much anxiety to do that i’m sorry. 

✿ Do you have a mun FC? If so why did you choose that as your FC, and if not who would you choose?

yes. because i have so many icons it’s not even funny, but also before i got my  hair cut she looked the most like me and also i thought it’d be fun to be able to tell the difference between me and my boys 

see, back in the day i was the loser who would make ooc posts that included my muses and it was easy to have mun fc so you could do that and it was a lot fun, but it’s somethin i won’t so nowadays.

♪♩♫ Does music inspire your muse? What’s one song on your playlist that reminds you of your muse?

haneul: mirror part II

any of weiss’ songs work for him tbvh

eiji: rpg

reese: havent found one that works for him yet, so come back later

✂ Do you like to format your posts? Why or why not?

yes it’s all for the aesthetic 

✆ Other than RPing, what’s a hobby of yours?

i love to write and draw. lmao sometimes i don’t write drafts so i can write more of my novel or little drabbles that’s for friends. 

✉ Do you RP on any other platforms?

nope

❤ Have you or are you currently in love?

answered

❥ Has something ever happened for you to hate a ship? Why?

uh nope can’t say there has been.

ツ Who has been your favorite muse to play so far? Why?

haneul, eiji, lifty and shifty, and en

han and eiji because they’re both my ocs and it’s so much fun to see them develop and grow their characters more. 

en because i was able to write a lot of different aus, headcanons, and just develop a canon character until he pretty much just became my own character

lifty and shifty were my roots. i started in the htf fandom and had so much fun writing those lil shits. it was just my go fuckin crazy shit. i still have their icons and their old blog is still up and i do kinda miss them some days.

回 Which muse was the worst to play? Why?

i used to have an oc named harley who was a living doll and i haha came to hate him because i made him around the same time i created haneul and i always loved haneul because i put a lot of effort into him and not much in harley and i got annoyed and jealous that back then everyone seemed to love harley more him. so i pretty much tossed him to the curve adfhsdkfjh

sorry harley but you were also hard to write because you were too sweet and cliche for me 

✘ People come in a group. If I were to look on your blog, who would I see you interacting with the most?

@snw-cnvs and @deceptivetreat

ღ Do you have a personal blog? Do you share it with your followers or do you keep it private?

nah i haven’t used tumblr in years until now. i do have one but i don’t use it so idc it’s called @shouyoutheworld but again i don’t use it it’s…v old

▼ Do you keep your character in character even if they are one of the worst people in the world?

yes. what’s the point of writing and creating said character if you’re gonna sugar coat them?

▽ Why did you create this muse?

haneul: i wanted an oc who was really jaded and brat. i wanted to see him grow into something more even if its difficult 

eiji: i pretty much wanted a muse that i could dump all my useless game infos on

reese: i wanted a witch oc who had a rival that they both hated their guts for and eventually fall in love I’M SO RR Y THAT’S REALLY WHY HE WAS MADE FORGIVE ME BUT NOW I DEVELOPED HIM A LOT MORE FOR RP’ING PURPOSES BUT Y’KN OW

[biting-you]

*kicks down door* HELLO YA’LL GUESS WHOSE BACK!!! THIS SACK OF POO POO! I’m finally finally finally posting this commission for a lovely anon who is honestly a saint. They wanted a sort of fantasy Overwatch Au with Soldier 76′s Jack Frost skin!

You felt so cozy, wrapped up in your little cocoon of blankets while you dozed peacefully, dreaming and unperturbed by nothing. Well that is until you felt many tiny hands start to poke and prod at your face. It woke you up, obviously, but you kept your eyes shut tight hoping that your annoying house guests would get the message and leave you alone. Of course you would have no such luck as they continued their assault, continuing to pinch at your skin, giggling all the while. “Christ, jeez I’m up, I’m up!” You finally relented and sat up, opening your eyes to glare properly at the pests who decided to wake you up from your slumber. Three little winged humanoids floated in front of you, cheeky grins split across each of their faces. The fact that they were faeries was of no surprise of course. The little buggers had been the bane of your existence ever since you could remember. Still, it didn’t mean you ever got used to it, especially when they woke you up far too early. “I have in alarm set, you know?” you muttered which only caused them to laugh harder and fly out your bedroom door toward your kitchen, most certainly to make some sort of mess in there. Deciding it was easier to get up than face the wrath of the faeries again, you swung your legs out of bed and proceeded to start going about your normal getting ready for work routine. ________________________________________ After putting out a few fires that you were more than certain those little winged rats had intentionally, you finally stepped out of your home and began to make the sort walk to the bus stop. As you walked, you made sure to say good morning to your neighbors like usual. Just because you had a bad start to your day doesn’t mean you wanted others to have one too. You waved to the small family of gnomes that lived under the loose tiles of the walkway, giving a friendly pat on the head to the black shuck that guarded the local cemetery and made sure to give a lock of your hair to the pixies that lived in the old elm near the town hall. It was a simple routine, but it was your routine. Though you knew good and well how strange it must look to others that you were interacting with things that weren’t there. Well, to them at least. But at this point in your life, when you were starting to become a true adult with a job and an apartment and bills to pay, you decided that you really didn’t care if people thought you were odd anymore. You weren’t about to ignore the lovely creatures you had known all of your life just because strangers would give you side long glances and whisper to each other behind their hands. If there was one thing to learn from mythical creatures was to not give a shit. You arrived at the bus stop with plenty of time to spare, which was both a blessing and a curse as you had to distract yourself from your idle time. At this rate you could have actually stopped to have a very tiny cup of morning tea with that lovely elf family. Oh well, social media it was then. You soon were lost in the variety of memes and lovely art that your friends posted on a daily basis, so lost in fact that you didn’t even notice a familiar petite brunette slid right up to your side and peer over your shoulder. “You got games on your phone?” You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt her voice so close to your ear, letting out short shriek that made the heads of the other bus stop patrons turn to you briefly before shrugging it off. You clutched at your chest before turning to look sharply at the mischievous faun was giving you a sharp toothed grin, obviously proud of herself for scaring you so easily. “Hana, goddamnit how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” You hissed. She cocked her head to the side and feigned counting in her head. “Mmm about 30 million,” You scoffed at her answer and shook your head. “I’m not in the mood today, I already didn’t get enough sleep thanks to those winged pests.” “Well if those ‘winged pests’ had actually done what I told them then you wouldn’t be sitting here at all!” You gave her an odd look. “Hana what are you talking about?” For the first time ever since you’ve known her, the usually cherry face of the faun turned serious her mouth set in a straight line as her brow furrowed in worry. “Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, let alone even really know about this but...” Her dark brown eyes flashed around nervously looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. “Just...don’t go through any doorways okay?” “I’ve been through like two in my house alone” You answered. Was this some weird new type of prank she was trying out? You didn’t really like it at all. She was quick to shake her head, looking even more upset now. “It wouldn’t happen inside of your home, a lot of us made sure to try and lock it down from any real bad forces but...we can’t really do it anywhere else.” She grabbed tightly onto your arm. “So that’s why you have to go back home right now! I mean, you’d probably have to stay there until they lost interest, which could be awhile, but it’s better then what they want!” “You’re not making sense at all! Who’s ‘they’, Hana?” You saw the muscles in her jaw tense and you swore she looked like she wanted to cry. “Th-The Seasons!” She finally sobbed out, breaking down into an unconsolable mess, “they want to take you away!” Before you could pry more answers out of her or try to comfort her in any sense, she bounded away quickly, not looking back. As you rode the bus to your work, you took the time to mull over Hana’s words. Not that you could think of anything else. There was no way it could be some sort of joke or prank. Hana was a pie in the face type of jokester not a ‘the most powerful elemental fae want to kidnap you’ asshole. But even still, you couldn’t really make sense of it. What in the hell would they want with you? Had you done something wrong? Perhaps disrespected them in some unknown way? No, you were sure you would have been told by another fae sooner if you had done something wrong, so that couldn’t be it. You heard plenty of tales of fae snatching humans plenty of times before but they were usually babies that were replaced with changelings or people who had actually wandered into fae territory on their own, never had you heard of a fae not to mention a high ranking one, go so far out of their own way to take a human. None of them liked to work that hard, it was just in their nature! And what was all this business with doors? It wasn’t like they could just throw a net over you and drag you away as soon as you crossed a threshold without risking making a scene. You were stumped and more than a little on edge by the time you reached your stop and made another short walk to your job. However as soon as you approached the glass doors that led into the large office building you paused, much to the chagrin of those behind you, who simply pushed past and entered. You watched them as they did so, absolutely nothing happening to them. No trolls came crashing through the ceiling or goblins scurrying out of the ventilation system to snatch away any unsuspecting human. Absolutely nothing. So taking a deep enough breath to make your lungs ache, you pushed open the door, ready to hear the familiar muffled tap of your flats hitting gray carpeting. Except there wasn’t any carpeting. Just smooth polished stone that caused your footsteps to echo around the large and ornate room you were in. Gone were the cubicles, gone was the water cooler, and gone was the world you’ve always known, replaced by marble and gold leafing and four very strangely dressed men, one of whom looked like he was about to explode from excitement.

“You’re here, you’re here! We finally get to meet you after all these years!” You were almost knocked off your feet by a very fast and very strong green and white blur that wrapped you in an almost rib shattering hug. It most certainly did not help your disorientation. “Eh heh, Genji you gotta put her down. She ain’t lookin’ too hot.” A low but kind voice came to your rescue and you were reluctantly released. “What is...what...I don’t understan-I think I might pass out,” You wobbled on your feet, threatening to fall backwards only for the same hands as before grab onto your shoulders. “Don’t do that! Just sit down here and I’m sure the urge to faint will pass in a moment.” You felt your tush hit a very soft and very comfy armchair and immediately you slumped back into it, closing your eyes and placing a hand over them as you waited for the dizziness to pass. When you finally felt well enough to open them and pick your head up, you were met with the eyes with the four men from before, all starring at you intently. “Feel better?” The first one asked, dark but humorous eyes searching your face for any other sign of discomfort. “Yea, uh...I think so,” you answered stiffly, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation. “Do you think you could like...just tell me where I am?” “Well, there is no name for it in any human language, though the closest thing to it would be calling it the Fae-Wilds! Does that help any?” Oh no. Oh NO. “Ok..okay...” you replied trying to keep calm “so if I just so happen to be in the Fae-Wilds...where all the high ranking fae live...then your four must be...” “The Seasons,” A gruff voice answered for you, coming from a man clad in the most gothic looking outfit you could imagine and to top it all off his head just happened to be a flaming jack-o-lantern. “And we have been very excited to meet you in person!” The green haired man said, reiterating his statement from earlier. You could only nod dumbly at his statement, feeling you like you might really pass out this time. “Sorry darlin’, we didn’t mean to overwhelm ya none, heck we didn’t even get to greet you properly!” The second man spoke, grinning at you from under the brim of his straw beach hat. Why the hell were they dressed like this? “Name’s Jesse, that there’s Genji,” He gestured his chin to the green haired man who beamed at you, “Gabriel,” the man if the pumpkin head grunted in response “and that there is...well that’s Jack.” You could physically feel the mood of the room change as soon as Jesse spoke the last mans name. You suddenly felt chilled and frightened and the feeling only heightened as you made eye contact with the afore mentioned Jack. His eyes were a terrible and dangerous shade of blue, so sharp and piercing you felt as if they were looking right down into the depths of who you are. You didn’t care for it at all. Thankfully the tension was slightly broken by Jesse letting out an awkward cough that dragged your attention back over to him. He gave you a weak smile and for a moment sadness crossed over his brown eyes before leaving just as quickly as it appeared. “Well, now that introductions are all said and done, I’m bettin’ you’re wonderin’ just why you’re here, arentcha darlin’?” You gave a slow nod of confirmation. A chair seemed to materialize out of know where before you, Jesse quickly taking a seat and leaning forward with his hands between his knees, his face still kind but serious. “I won’t beat around the bush with ya honey suckle, you deserve to know what’s goin’ on and ya don’t need no big speech explain’ it to you so...” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We want to make a deal with you, sweet heart. Nothin’ dangerous I promise you that but you still might now care for it...” He trailed off as his eyes flickered over to Jack who was staring a bit too intensely. “All we want if for you too stay here for a month, just a month! To see if you like it...if you feel any sort of attachment here...or to any of us. Now if you don’t of course, we’ll send you back fair and square and we won’t bother you like this again.” Too say that you were stunned was an understatement, in fact you could barely speak! The only words you could choke out were “...why?” Gabriel was quick to answer, “Do you know how rare it is for a human to have your ability? One in a goddamn million chance. Makes you kind of special don’t you think? You’re like a fae magnet with this gift of yours, you have no idea how precious humans are to our kind, especially one that can already see us.” “Okay...I have a gift, so what?” It doesn’t mean you can keep me here for a whole month!” You spat out, finally through with your shock and now moving into anger. “Look we know this isn’t probably...ideal and trust me honey this wasn’t my first choice either...” His eyes trailed back nervously to Jack “but like I said before you can go back if you don’t like it here when the month is through.” You eyed him warily and you had a strange feeling you actually didn’t have much of a choice anyway, it wasn’t like you knew the way out of the Fae-Wilds on your own. “Fine...fine I’ll take your little deal...but I’m not promising anything.”

Oh God why had you taken their deal? Why hadn’t you just said ‘fuck it’ and try to run? It had only been a week and the affections (if you could call them that) from the four men were already draining you of any and all patience you had left. It was a toss up between Jesse and Genji for being the worst of your new tormentors. They were nice enough with their compliments and boyish wooing but their constant need for physical affection made you want to retch at the best of times. Jesse would whine and complain even if you so much as leaned away from him, never mind the absolute temper tantrum that would ensue if you managed to escape out of his suffocating grasp. Your hair never seemed to be without Genji’s fingers tangled through them and he had a bad habit of putting so many damn flowers in your hair that you started attracting bees. You were really starting to miss those faeries back home. Thankfully, Gabriel was a much more tolerant presence to be around (though that wasn’t saying much). You could hardly count the many time he dragged you from your room to his own quarters and demanding you spend time with him. It was always at the worst hours too, like three in the morning just to drag you to a meal he had made especially for you, slamminh you down in a chair even when you protested that you already ate. “Sit there and stare at it for all I care,” He had gruff. At least he kept his hands off you for the most part. Then there was Jack. The good old God of winter never got close to you, never demanded that you spend any time with him. No. He would just stand and stare at you, no words spoken but a tentative greeting on your part and the continuous low muttering that came from the masked man. You hated it. You hated him. That icy chill that you would receive whenever he stepped foot into the room was both from his presence and his powers. Jack made you feel so frozen, so…isolated whenever he was around, you were sure that even in a room full of people, he could make you feel like the last person on Earth. It was the middle of the tenth day of you being stuck in the Fae-wilds (you made sure to keep close track of the days until you could leave) and Jesse had managed to drag you to a small pond located inside one of the many rooms in the castle that they all reside in. Despite the fact that it was in a building, the body of water was surrounded by vegetation, something Jesse wouldn’t stop talking about as he lounged beside you. “I invented those, you know,” he drawled, pointing at the water lilies that floated calmly on the crystal clear water. You gave him a small hum of feigned interest which made him squeeze your hand with a grin, at least tnat was all he was grabbing onto at the moment, perhaps he was finally catching on that you didn’t care to be groped every waking hour of the day. “Genji likes to claim he made them first but everyone ‘round here know that I-“ Jesse cut himself off when a chill suddenly engulfed the room, quickly turning your puffs of air into dense clouds and covering the pond with a fine frost. You didn’t bother turning around at the enterloper, knowing by this point it was better to ignore him out right. Jesse on the other hand seemed more then happy to stare as Jack hovered near the entrance, face concealed behind that damned mask he never went without. You felt the man beside you already starting to fidget at the others presence, casting you a nervous look as he debated whether to leave you alone with Jack, or tough out the feeling of what was most likely a heated glare bore into the back of his skull. He chose the former.

“I’ll uh…I’ll see you later sweetheart, okay? At dinner tonight?” You only gave him a nod and another hum as he stood and gave you a sheepish grin as he brushed the imaginary dirt off his trousers. You didn’t acknowledge him further as he walked away, a wary eye trained on Jack as he slipped past him and out the door.

If there was one thing that Jack was good for it was getting the others out of your hair. They all seemed to fear him for some reason or another, even Gabe seemed to give him a wide enough berth. You couldn’t truly understand why. Wouldn’t they all be on equal ground with powers and such? You mulled this over while you pretended the pond was oh so interesting to further try and let the man behind you know that you weren’t interested in whatever stunt he was trying to pull at all. A routine silence fell over the two of you and you assumed that would be the same song and dance that usually took place during your encounters so you damn near had a heart attack when the deep rumble of his voice echoed through the room.

“Are you enjoying your time here, stardust?”

You turned your head around so fast you gave yourself minor whiplash. He hadn’t moved at all and for a brief moment you thought maybe he hadn’t spoken at all and your mind was playing some kind of strange trick on you. Still you responded.

“What do you think?” You snapped back and it made him cock his head to the side as if puzzled.

“No? You don’t seem like it. You haven’t tried to escape once or offer another deal to get yourself out sooner.” You scoffed.

“What good would that do me? It’s better to wait out this bullshit until the month is out and the four of you won’t ever pester me again,” Scowling, you turn back to the pond, set on ignoring him yet again. You were so wrapped up in your loathing that you didn’t notice his approach until you felt the icy puff of his breath on the back of your neck.

“So you don’t love them then?”

The shock of his closeness almost had you stumbling into the lake as your body lurched forward only for him to grab onto your bicept with a near crushing grip as he hauled you to your feet.

“What the hell-let go!” you spat as you tried in vain to pry his fingers from your arm.

“Answer the question, stardust,” he hissed behind his mask, tugging you closer so his face was uncomfortably near to your own.

“Of course I don’t love any of them, you creepy.” You glowerd at him as he gave a hum, satisfied by your answer enough to loosen his grip ever so slightly.

“Interesting…so who will you be choosing at the end of the month?” His reply made you scoff again.

“No one, obviously,”

He barked out a laugh that made you recoil in fear. You did not like that sound at all.

“It’s so cute that you still think you have a choice! Not to mention how funny it is that the others are still trying to con you into believeing you still have any other options at all!”

“What are you talking about?”

With a click and a hiss he removed his mask with his free hand, tossing it to the floor carelessly. His eyes were wild his expression unhinged as he grinned down at you.

“Do you really think you were going to be allowed to leave us? Leave me…” His expression softened for a fraction of a moment before twisting up with sick glee once more. “Hell, you sealed your own fate by eating foot we offered you! I was actually surprised by that. Thought you would starve to death before you fell for that old trick.” Your eyes widened. Oh Gods, he was right. How could you be so stupid! That was the first rule of interacting with any sort of fae! Jack laughed at your stunned expression.

“Aw, I know stardust, I know,” he cooed mockingly “but it’s going to be alright.” Jack leaned in closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent, “you’re going to be with me. Forever! Won’t that be grand?”

[voidendron]

I have a love-hate relationship with the Monster AU. Bare chest? Eh, sure, whatever. Need to practice them anyway. But then it goes and demands BARE FEET. bare feet are the bane of my existence goddammit King

Also. All versions have a gap in their top teeth because this dork fell out of a tree while he was still a new Ego. Well. Mirror King probably got a crowbar or something to the face to get it, but whatever. Monster King usually wears a cloak, but I wanted to figure out his markings so didn’t draw him in it.

(Whippet heavily referenced from an image found on Google. Source was “Vetstreet”)

--Do not copy or repost my works. Like and reblog instead.--