#it's just. how do you choose a name so carelessly when it lies outside of your culture. just cause you like a fictional character?

[datastate]

you people have got to stop taking on japanese names when you're not japanese. same goes for other poc's cultures (esp when they are names that are earned), but it's especially bad with asian fetishism -_-

[starkidpotty]

In Cahoots [HJP]

Request: hey omg your writing is so good! can I request Harry and reader being friends and having detention with umbridge together and then walking back together to the common room late at night and taking care of each other and then they admit their feelings for each other? Have a wonderful day! 💕💕 - anon

You never mean to say or do most things, but this time it works out for the better.

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: mentions of blood, scars, and wounds

A/N: I deviated from them being friends ;( i love awkward teen interactions too much. i hope u enjoy it regardless! <3 

Punishments for misbehavior at Hogwarts were never bloody. Scary, perhaps, but never bloody. Umbridge made it clear she did not care much for this unwritten rule, and had a taste for a more medieval way of disciplining the students. Harry was the first person to incur damage from Dolores’ sadistic black quill, until you found yourself in detention with him. Your reason for detention was stupid (Umbridge’s rules were stupid) as you were found by the Inquistorial squad with a dungbomb you had no intention of using in your pocket. Meanwhile, Harry was serving day three out of his 2 week detention with Umbridge. You mournfully hated that this was the most interaction you and him have had outside of the DA meetings.

Both of you were tasked to repeatedly write I must not break rules until it was scabbed and bleeding onto your hands. You were sat next to Harry, on your 28th or 29th repetition of the line–you lost count, as the pain started to amplify the more you wrote. Umbridge was looking quite pleased with herself, as she paced back and forth while watching the both of you with a nefarious grin plastered onto her ugly face. Tears had started to pool in your eyes making them appear like watercolor-painted puddles. You were trying your hardest to suck them back into your tear ducts to no avail. Tear by slow tear began to crawl its way down your face and onto the empty parchment as you wrote with your quill. The effect of the quill for some odd reason was extreme on your hand. You were bleeding more profusely than your contemporaries, you noticed.

Umbridge finally relinquished the both of you from the painful task and you immediately took hold of your book bag, haphazardly dropping the black quill onto the floor, and flounced to the exit, beating Harry to it.

Your lips were pressed together in a fine line, trying to stifle in a cry until you rounded a corner and sat on the nearest bench. In a desperate attempt to get the bleeding to stop, you carelessly unknotted your Gryffindor tie and tied it over the wounds. You sat for a few seconds, pressing firmly on the wound to get it to stop bleeding. Your tears were now free flowing at this point.

Harry spots you from his peripherals, as he exits detention. Harry walks over to you to comfort you, as he knows how terrible the wounds are the first time around. You, on the other hand, were so fixated on the wound, that as you stood up to go to the girl’s lavatory, the top of your head made contact with Harry’s jaw. 

Harry takes a few steps back, surprised by the sudden contact between your scalp and his chin. And, you are now nursing two boo-boos instead of the one. Harry composes himself quickly and takes steps toward, while still clutching his jaw. You are holding your head and while your hand bleeds freely over the floor, even with the tie wrapped around it.

“You’re, uh, bleeding,” He stammers as his eyes follow the drops of blood. He swoops to take your hand and unravel the red-stained, makeshift Gryffindor tie bandage, carelessly placing it in his front pocket. He tries his best to be gentle but failing as you wince, “Quite a lot.”

“I am fairly well-aware, Harry.” You didn’t mean for this to come off as snarky, but as the pain and bleeding on your hand intensify, you really couldn’t control your tone, even if it was Harry that was talking to you.

“Of course, sorry.” He replies to you sheepishly, “I’ll help you clean it up, if it’s alright.” Harry took this opportunity to not only help you, but to be able to stand in such close proximity to you–something he’s been pathetically inching towards the whole school year. 

He doesn’t wait for your response and leads you to the girl’s lavatory, heading straight to the sink. He turns the faucet on and gently takes your hand under the running water. He wipes away the blood with both his hands, and you stare at his hand. Underneath the newly minted wounds were faded and healing wounds spelling out “I must not tell lies”. 

The pain made its presence on your hand very clear, but your thoughts were swirling around erratically. Harry Potter was tending to your wounds, holding your hand, standing oh-so painstakingly close to you in the girl’s lavatory. Your little schoolgirl crush on him started after the Yule Ball and stayed ever since. So, regardless of how much pain you were in, you were enjoying his presence. 

He’s fixated on your hands as quite literally, the bleeding wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard he pressed. Also because he was too shy to look at you, square in the face. 

“With all the bleeding, I’d guess you were a hemophiliac,” Harry declares seriously, trying to make the atmosphere more comfortable.

You didn’t know whether to take this as a joke or an insult as you, being the pureblood you were, did not know what a hemophiliac was. You give him a confused look, head tilted slightly, brows furrowed at the center. Harry, on the other hand, was beating himself up for trying to cut the silence in such a dumb way. 

“Sorry? Is that a muggle joke?” You question. 

“Oh, er, sorry,” He awkwardly stammers out, “It’s a muggle condition where your wounds don’t quite necessarily know when to stop bleeding.” 

All you muster is a softly-spoken, oh. You were still awkwardly standing with your hand in Harry’s. Harry turns off the faucet and  grabs your tie out from his pocket. He dabs it gently and presses it firmly onto your wounded hand. With his free hand, he fishes his wand from his pocket. 

Uncovering your tie from the wound he says, “Episkey,” while pointing his wand at your hand. The wounds scabbed over, stopping the bleeding. As your tie is drenched in blood (you were astounded at how much blood your hand let out, perhaps you were what muggles called a “hemophiliac”), Harry unties his own tie and wraps it around your scabbed hand for good measure. You take this opportunity to wipe your face dry with your untouched hand. He hands you your bloodied tie and you shove it into your bookbag. 

He stares at you and smiles, “I hope that would help, one way or another.” He’s still holding your wounded hand and stares at you. You look to meet his eyes and for a few seconds your eyes lock. You get red in the face and look down quickly. Harry lets out an awkward chuckle and gently drops your hand out of his. 

“Thank you, Harry, but what about your wounds?” You ask him as now you take his wounded hand. You examine the scar on his left-hand. You rub your thumb gently near the wounds, paying extra attention to not gloss over the newly formed scabs. He tamely takes his hand away from you and hangs it at his side.

“I’ll manage.” He replies to you. Not wanting to give you the chance to contest he continues, “Uh, would you like to head back to the common room together?” 

“I don’t think we’ve much a choice,” you respond, smiling lightly.  

Walking out the girl’s lavatory–thanking Merlin that no one saw Harry scamper out the door–and make your way to the Gryffindor tower. The silence is extremely awkward. Harry sneaks glances at you, as you look out to the Hogwarts courtyard to ease out of whatever mental bind you’ve put on your tongue. 

“So, Ha–” you begin. At the same time, Harry opens his mouth to speak uttering the first syllable of your name. You both look down at the floor, grinning like idiots. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, “Please, you first.”

You let out a breathless half-giggle, “Umbridge’s quill is quite evil, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Harry wanted to scream into a cauldron. Months of imagining a full-on conversation with you in his head and all he could muster was a puny indeed? 

Another awkward pause takes a hold of the two of you. 

You begin again, “So… are you and Cho, er, together? In cahoots?” You mentally slap yourself on the forehead. What kind of teenager  says cahoots unironically?

“Me? Cho?” Harry questions you, looking bewildered. Harry was surprised at your question, as he thought his pitiful pining over you was already painfully obvious.

“Is-is it not a thing?” You stammer out, a bit surprised. 

“Not in the slightest.” Confirms Harry. 

“Well, I only ask,” You pause, trying to recollect your thoughts and choose your words carefully, “because you too seem very close.”

“Well, she’s a good friend, but no. We aren’t together. She’s still mourning Cedric.” 

“Oh, I can only imagine.”

A third awkward silence takes you both once more. You are unaware, but Harry is just as nervous as you are. You and Harry have finally made it to the moving staircases, you two make your way up. Just as you hit the middle of the staircase, it moves, leaving you and Harry stuck until it returns to its original position. Harry wanted to throw himself off of the magical staircase right about now.

Harry thinks this is as good a time as ever to sneakily confirm–hopefully deny–his suspicions and continues the conversation, “What about you, and, uh, Anthony Goldstein?” 

Your face reflexively cringes and Harry smiles at the scene, “Have I said something?” 

“Yes, you said Anthony Goldstein.” 

“Well, I thought you and he were in cahoots.” He jokes at you, trying to fake confidence.

You bury your face in your hands, “Merlin, he was a git. He was quite rude to me after he told me how he felt about me because I confessed I had a little crush on you.” You immediately regret the oversharing of information as Harry eyes widen. But deep down, he’s more relieved than not, as you had accidentally made the proverbial first move.

You try and play it off with a laugh, “Well, I mean, they say you are the Chosen One, and, uh I think you are quite nice-looking,” Nice-looking? you think to yourself. You continue to save yourself the embarrassment, “you’re great at spells too, and, uh, very brave, I’d say.”

Harry goes red in the face at your flurry of compliments, but he only repeats, “Nice-looking?”

“Quite.” 

Harry doesn’t know what force propels him to start acting all cheekily with you but he says, “I think you’re, er, quite nice-looking as well. Talented at spells, too.” 

“So I guess it’s agreed upon then?” you ask him. 

“Sorry?” 

“That we both think we are nice-looking...and good at spellwork.” You joshed. 

“If anything, I think you’re more than quite nice-looking–you’re very beautiful.” Harry says so quickly, it’s almost a miracle he didn’t trip over his tongue.

It’s as though your’s and Harry’s faces were having a contest on who could make who redder–you were sure you were winning.

“That’s you, I think.” You say to return the compliment, then subsequently groaning realizing how it came out.

“You think I’m beautiful too?” Harry bantered.. 

“Much more beautiful than me, I suppose.” 

The staircase finally shifts to the correct landing and the both of you ascend to the Gryffindor tower entrance, Harry says the password, gesturing for you to step in first. You turn to him to thank him but your lips meet his cheek instead. You inadvertently tell him you have a crush on him and then you inadvertently make a move on him, not even 2 minutes apart? What a mess. 

“Merlin, sorry, Harry! I didn’t realize you were so close.” You apologize. 

“No worries, [Y/N]” He says without looking at you as his stomach suddenly turned into a trapeze artist and started doing flips upon flips. 

Thank Merlin there was no one in the common room to watch you and Harry make bumbling fools of yourselves. You both pause at the entryway of the common room, until you begin to speak.

“I want to say thank you, by the way,” You say. You begin to unravel his tie from your hand, seeing as your hand was no longer hurting. “Here’s your, uh, tie, by the way. Thank you for tending to it, even if you didn’t have to.” 

“Anytime,” Harry replies. 

You turn to head to the stairs to make way to your dormitory but Harry calls out.

“I just want to repeat that me and Cho aren’t, er, dating or, as you call it, in cahoots. ” He says to you.

“You’ve said that,” You tell him while smiling. 

“Perhaps, you and I could be in cahoots–I mean it could be something you and I could work toward, if it’s alright with you, but if it’s not, it’s completely fine, I’d still think you’re very beautiful regardless.” Harry is rapping at this point, heart beating in his ears.

You’re surprised and extremely elated at Harry’s burst of confidence, “It is alright by me, Harry. I think I’d like that–I know I would, actually.”

“Brilliant. Absolutely excellent.” He beams. 

“Absolutely.” 

--

masterlist here

[tsunonotarou]

"Is it so hard to love me?"

notes — Forgot where I got this prompt from but it caught my angst obsessed self's attention

— Honestly don't know how to feel about this one, could be better but I just

: female reader!

Although a royalty, although a prince, Leona never got what he wanted.

Status, riches, fame, everything was thrown at him, but those weren't things he wanted, no, never had he wished for those.

The love he longed for, the attention, the affection, you whom he long for since young, were all given to his older brother.

Leona wasn't blessed, being born a prince wasn't a blessing. Living in luxury wasn't a blessing. They were curses, and Leona wanted them gone.

You, whom he had spend his childhood with.

You, whom he had grown fond of.

You, whom he had loved, and still do.

Your life was decided since birth. Set to marry the first prince of Afterglow Savannah and despite all that, you turned to him instead of your future spouse. Talked to him during events and parties when you should be at the older's side.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Farena?"

Leona remembers, and he only chuckled when he think back to your response.

"Woah."

" 'Woah' ?"

"Your cheeks look soft and cute. Can I touch it?"

You were both so young, two mini versions of your present self sitting together, with your eyes shining with sparkles. You were staring at his cheeks alright.

He had brushed you off, of course, but not before clicking his tongue and looking at you weirdly. You trailed behind him, watching his tail swish and sway, padding your small feet to match his pace.

Annoying...

He was annoyed, but he was also a little happy that someone actually saw him and tried to talk to him.

You notice he was quiet during the entire dinner, small hands barely touched the food as he played it boredly with the utensils, immediately stiffening when one of the guests praised Farena a little too loudly for his recent achievement.

He quietly left after that.

"Lady Y/N? Where are you going? T-The dinner is not over yet! Please come back—!"

The servants' pleas fell on deaf ears. Short legs managed to outrun skilled guards and hop in one direction to another, throwing them off and successfully slipped into the second prince's room.

"Congratulations!"

You throw yourself onto the boy only to crash down on soft pillows. "Oof—!"

Leona stares at you bewildered, some hair sticking up in awkward directions due to him hastily getting up to avoid your hug—

You...wanted to hug him? Somebody wanted to hug him?

No, he must've been thinking things. You were just dumb and wanted to crash on the carpet.

"Congratulations? For what?" He was about to help you until you suddenly sprung up, not even bothering to fix your hair as you grinned ear to ear. "For winning second place on the Magift competition our school held, of course!"

Tsk, second place.

The boy scoffed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and averted his gaze. "So what? It's just second place."

He watch you quickly scramble up, fixing your hair half-heartedly in the process and stomped over to him with furrowed brows, making him back away slightly when you came close.

"Just second place? Do you know how cool that is?! I didn't even get a participation prize—mmpfh!" You feel his warm palm covering your mouth, the boy clicked his tongue before pushing you away gently.

"Whatever. People don't care no matter what I do. They only have eyes for Farena, it's like I've done nothing, might as well don't give me the medal." He side-eyed the silver prize, tossed carelessly onto his desk.

"Why are you so edgy."

"E-Edgy!?"

The small boy growled, baring fangs at the girl whom just unexpectedly flicked the prince's forehead, she flicked a prince's—

"Yeah, edgy." She emphasized the last word. "Second place is good enough for me. And stupid gold or silver doesn't determine your hard work or effort!"

Although a little surprised, Leona still scowled. "You don't understand-"

"I, for one, knows how hard you've worked, Leona."

It was the first time she called him by name.

It was the first time Leona felt like he was seen.

"You're annoying." He grumbled, lied on the bed and rolled to his side, purposely hiding his face from the girl, just in case it showed something she shouldn't see.

"Hehe, I know. Everyone calls me that."

Leona paused, turning to look at the girl but she was already stepping out, waving at him enthusiastically and almost tripped, sending Leona's heart into a frenzy.

He stayed like that for a moment, just lying on bed and staring up to the ceiling like usual but this time, his mind wasn't occupied by negativity and instead, her words.

"Don't go feeling like you got accepted, stupid..."

The days after that the two of you have certainly grown close. He would grunt softly at your greeting in response when usually he walks past. He would listen to your ramble with a bored look on face when usually he leaves the room before you could spot him.

He would offer you advice on Magift, laughing loudly and genuinely when you slipped and fell.

Leona would like to think he got happier.

But he wasn't unaware of the cruelness of reality. He didn't think he would be the only one to be in your company. He wasn't the only one with a strong bond with you.

He knew your gaze was not fixated on him. It was never on him, anyway.

Days passed and the two of you grew older. Appearance wise, you matured a little but your personality? You're still a dork and Leona swore he had never wanted to shut someone up so bad when you made random funny noises just to disturb his sleep.

As the two of you grew, the day of you becoming Farena's wife came closer, and Leona refused to accept it.

Even as the loud cheers outside deafened his ears, even as the announcement of a new King and Queen of Afterglow Savannah was spread to the whole world, Leona refused to accept it.

The warmth that accompanied him was long gone, and Leona was left alone on this cold bed.

"You talk a lot for someone who's going to choose my brother like everyone else in the end."

He wondered,

"Is it so hard to love me?"

[aki-draws-things]

NaNoWriMo 2020 #01

This year’s NaNoWriMo I decided to grab 30 prompts from the Whumptober and fill them in November, one each day, some more hopeful than other, some are just plain heart breaking angst. I really hope you all will enjoy them and I hope I can be consistent in their writing!  Some of those fics may be part of a bigger collection and definitely features a couple of OCs, I hope you’ll love them as much as I do.  (You’ll definitely see a pattern in the main ship I write, or in who I prefer to torture...)

Alright, let’s get going.

Day: 01/11/2020

Prompt: Possession, Magical Healing

Ship: Nie MingJue/Nie ZongHui

Word count: 1916

Nie ZongHui said it at least a thousand times, that he would die for him, and he meant it every single one of them, no exceptions. Of course Nie MingJue complained every time the words slipped out of his mouth. 

“Stop it.” He always said. “Don't be absurd.”

“I'm not worth this sacrifice.” He said other times, in the privacy of his room, hair down in waves and eyes narrowed, a painful look reflecting in them. “I'm not worthy of your trust, your loyalty.” His fingers grasped ZongHui’s dark robe and he smiled covering the now trembling hands with his. “I don't deserve any of this, any of you.” And there were tears spilling, running down his cheeks, and he was a young man again, not Sect Leader Nie, but just MingJue. JueJue. And ZongHui always smiled and held him in a tight embrace. 

“You're right, - he agreed, his fingers carding through the hair. - you're worth much more.” And he kissed the tears away until Nie MingJue would calm down enough to let out a sigh and settle against his chest. 

Yes, Nie ZongHui would die for him in every life they were allowed to find each other. And he would die looking for him if they weren’t meant to meet in a life.

When the saber spirit broke from their binds and sent them flying on the ground he didn't need to think what to do next; from the corner of his eye he saw the spirit float and turn and throw itself at Nie MingJue, so he stood and ran. He pushed him back just enough to be right in front of him, a last shield that Nie MingJue would probably never forgive him for, and the spirit hit him. 

It was worth it. Saving Nie MingJue was always worth it. Dying for him was worth it. His consciousness faded. 

But it wasn't the end. Death wasn't like Nie ZongHui imagined during all those years. Instead he was rising, standing, clenching and unclench his fists, turning. He felt his mouth twitch upward in a smile, he saw confusion over Nie MingJue’s features, and then realization when his mouth opened and he spoke and he laughed and the voice was so foreign to his ears that it was almost painful to listen to.

“It is better to be a man.”

Nie ZongHui screamed. It was different from the times he let his twins be in control of his body. Both Bìfēng and Tiānjùdiǎn were kind and soft, young. Nie ZongHui knew their voices, he knew their rage and their call for blood and evil, he knew the ringing laughters when they connected with Baxia, like excited human children. It was a bond he both cherished and feared.

“You good-for-nothing, I will kill you.”

This voice was nothing like them, it was old and angry, it screamed for blood and little it cared if the spilled blood was evil or not, Nie ZongHui feared it would even spill it’s own Master’s blood if he was still alive. Perhaps it even did it. It was the cause of their curse, the beginning of the rage running deep in Nie’s blood and in the saber spirits. For the first time he felt glad that Nie MingJue left behind his softness when he rode to the tomb that day, he was glad he set off with only the intention of stopping the spirit and not of fixing it.

- He once told him, during one faithful, sleepless night. “I want to understand.” His voice soft and sleepy, they were younger and he had been Sect Leader only for one year, back then. “Spirits always have a starting point, a moment when their energy turns to rage. If I were to try and talk to them would you come with me?” Nie ZongHui nodded because what else could he do? He would follow him to the end of the world if he asked. “Do you think talking would make the other spirits less blood thirsty?” “If the first one settles down, they would follow. I’m sure. I’m… almost sure.” -

Of course he changed over the years, that softness now belonged to Nie HuaiSang for most part, and the more the sickness progressed, the rougher he became. - But still he was soft sometimes, when they lied side by side, when he showed up in his study with a bowl of fruit to distract him from the maps, when Nie ZongHui found himself doing the same. In the now rare moment when he let Baxia merge with his soul, her skillful hands possessing his and she braided her Shidi’s hair, both twins almost purring. He had been embarrassed the first time Nie MingJue revealed he could make such a sound. But he would suffer all the embarrassment for that softness. - But he was still soft, still kind and caring in his own way, for his own people. Nie ZongHui screamed again and a voice snarled at him to stop, it laughed at him that no one would hear him, he was the spirit now, and no one listened to them.

Then his body moved forward and he closed his eyes. They trained together so many times to know each others weak spot and the saber spirit knew them too now, it knew where to hit to truly harm Nie MingJue, even to kill him, Nie ZongHui hoped that deep down, one day, MingJue would forgive him for having been that weak to let the spirit possess him, too weak not to fight for the control over his own body. He also knew that Nie MingJue would narrow his eyes and ask him what he was supposed to forgive, unable to see that weakness of his.

He flinched every time his fists landed on his Master, he let out a broken sob when his sword teared through the robe, when blood dripped down the blade, he thought he could hear a distant cry from Bìfēng, much clearer that he ever heard him now that he was more similar to him that to Nie MingJue.

“Show no mercy.” He said to himself. “Kill me. Free me.” He wished that Nie MingJue could hear him and when Baxia finally fell down on him he smiled and the ancestral tomb faded into darkness. Dying for him was worth it. So was dying with him. Dying by his hand was good too, he only hoped someone would take care of him now that he was gone. Nie HuaiSang perhaps, the young Master was more capable than what he liked to show. Yes, yes. MingJue was in good hands. He had only one regret and it was too late now.

He never told him openly. He wished he did.

He wished… —

Nie MingJue felt cold, Baxia was suddenly heavy in his hand and he dropped her before falling to his knees, she always complained when he treated her so carelessly, but this time she was quiet, trembling and for once not in rage. It was always difficult to explain to everyone outside Qinghe the kind of bond they had to their saber, and to most of their weapons in general, it stretched beyond the spiritual weapons, though many Nie disciples never learned to merge with their spirits, that was why it was a Saber to choose them and not the contrary, it was the saber spirit to reveal them its name once enough trust had been built. The deeper the bond, the deeper the knowledge and the control. Baxia was trembling and crying, and Nie MingJue felt tears slide down his cheeks, he crawled almost blindly toward Nie ZongHui, gathered his body into his arms the same way Baxia was cradling Bìfēng and Tiānjùdiǎn in hers. He moved him gently, afraid to hurt him, unable to speak, to do anything but cry. He wanted to apologize, he had to apologize, he had to find a different way, not fall on the old spirit trick. Perhaps talking would have saved Nie ZongHui, perhaps he should have offered himself in his place and the spirit would have been satisfied. And ZongHui would still be alive.

He brushed the hair back from his face and when his fingers hovered over his neck for a moment longer he felt a weak flicker of his pulse.

“ZongHui…” He sat on the ground, his body cradled safely, and he let his eyes slip close, his mind clearer than it had been in days, falling deeper and deeper into the nothingness around him, closer to the point where Baxia was kneeling a borrowing the golden energy that surrounded her and the twin spirits. His father taught them that trick the moment they revealed their closeness to the respective saber spirits; one thing was fighting together, one thing was merging together. One thing was borrowing a spirit’s energy, controlling it and lead it toward the surface and into the living realm. Another thing again was using said energy to heal.

Uncaring of his own needs Nie MingJue let the energy pulse out of his body with every breath he took and flow into ZongHui, healing the wounds he caused and the damage the spirit possessing him did. It wasn’t the first time, in order to heal him, or HuaiSang sometimes, he shared his energy many times before, ZongHui did the same, there was a light thread connecting them, one golden core to the other, like the red thread of fate, but golden. It was Nie MingJue's weakness and he was all too aware but the mere thought of breaking it made him feel unbearable pain.

He fell, his arms still closed around Nie ZongHui's almost healed body, keeping him from hitting the ground as he fell with him.

Then there was nothing.

Nie ZongHui woke up to a light gray ceiling and an earthy smell, the blankets covering his body were heavy and warm, it almost looked like his personal chamber in the Unclean Realm, but it was impossible. He was dead. He died in the ancestral hall. He died by Nie MingJue's hand. So how could he —

“I’m officially calling scared Didi privilege.” He turned slowly, the wound on his neck pulled at the movement, Nie HuaiSang was sitting at his desk, his fan folded carefully in front of him. He stared at ZongHui with crossed arms and a frown that looked so strange on his face and, at the same time, that seemed to be born to be there, so similar to his older brother, more than they would admit. “I’m not letting you and Da-Ge out of my sight in the near future. - He grabbed his fan and clutched it so tight his knuckles turned white. - No complaints accepted.”

Well, ZongHui wasn’t going to complain, still confused at how he woke up there, how he survived. Nie MingJue on the other hand…

Something moved on the blanket near his hand, he finally looked down, finding his Sect Leader half sitting on the floor, a blanket draped over his shoulders and his head resting over his arms folded on the mattress. He stirred the moment Nie ZongHui moved a hand on the unbranded hair and looked up with sleepy eyes before realizing what was happening and smiling at him. He moved just slightly, took the hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“ZongHui… ZongHui, you’re awake.” He whispered and moved closer, the blanket falling from his shoulders. “You’re finally awake.”

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

But Even The Strong Can Fall

Hey Nonny! I choose Clint to be the one to find her, because I honestly don’t think Nat would allow or respond well too anyone else to help her other than him. 

Title: But Even The Strong Can Fall 

Words: 2,107

TW: Off-Screen Noncon, description of resulting injuries 

. 

“Has anyone seen Widow recently?” Clint asks over the comms, eyes scanning the ground from his perch on the roof. Natasha normally wasn’t very talkative over the commutation lines, unlike Tony and Thor who both enjoyed keeping running commentaries on their activities. Natasha was quieter, but she did keep them updated every few minutes at the least. Clint doesn’t remember the last time she had been this silent for so long. He had tried calling her name several times over the line already with no luck.

         “We saw her about fifthteen minutes ago.” Steve reports. Clint can hear the slight frown in his voice. “She said she was headed up to you. She didn’t make it?”

         Clint’s stomach drops to the ground. “No. Not at all. Fuck. Tony?”

         Tony responds after a few seconds. “Friday says her comms have been turned off? That’s really weird…Let me try- Fri, can you override?” There’s some slight static noise, and they can hear Tony calling for Natasha, asking if she can hear him and demanding a response of some kind. None comes.

         “It’s doesn’t matter. Maybe it broke or something. I’m going to her. Tony, does Friday have her location?”

         “Huh. Okay, well her tracker seems to be acting a bit weird too, but last logged location was about ten minutes from you, Hawk. Let us know when you find her. We’ll keep an eye out too.”

         Clint curses again, shoving his arrow back into his quiver and collapsing his bow. He takes off in the direction Tony told him, keeping watch for any sign of his partner. He tries his best to not let his mind run away from him, but he can’t help the nagging voice in the back of his head. Nat wouldn’t just disappear like this. This isn’t right.

         It only takes Clint five minutes to get to Natasha’s last location. It’s nothing special- some old worn down and crumbling warehouse that was definitely not on any paths of the plan Steve had laid out. The building was eerily quiet, causing Clint’s hair on the back of his neck rose. Narrowing his eyes, he draws his bow and arrow again, holding it low while his eyes run over the building.

         He pauses, not willing to accept what he was seeing. On the ground, several feet away from him laid a little black earpiece, along with a discarded Glock near it. Natasha’s Glock.

         “Nat?” He calls out hesitantly. “You here?”

         Nothing.

         He continues through the building, listening intently. He’s about to report back to the team and tell them this was a dead end when he notices a trail of blood droplets, leading to a door off to his left; one he hadn’t noticed earlier. He silently moves towards the door, placing his ear close against the rotting wood to listen for any clues.

         There. Someone was breathing.

         Clint backs away some feet, lining up his foot with the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he kicks in the door and rushes though, bow raised and ready to defend himself as he enters.

         “Oh, my god.” He chokes out around the bile rising in his throat. His bow clatters to the ground as he takes in the stripped and bleeding girl in the corner.

         Natasha is curled into herself on the ground, knees pulled up to hide her bare chest. One of her arms is wrapped around her legs, hugging them closer to her body, while the other hand is holding onto her head near her temple, dark blood spilling out from under her fingers. Her once pale skin was marred with black and blue bruises, and his eyes catch on the handprint bruise that cover her hips. Tremors rack through her body mercilessly. She’s sitting in a small puddle of blood.

         The floor is littered with her torn clothing and broken weapons, carelessly strewn about. Pushed up against the opposite wall lies the dead body of a man. The man is easily recognizable as one of the high-ranking members of the group they were currently supposed to be taking down. The man’s throat has been crudely slit; the broken piece of glass she must have used still embedded in his skin.

         Clint is down next to her in a second, hands hovering slightly, not sure what exactly to do first. He settles for laying a feather light touch on her shoulder, whispering her name cautiously.

         “No!” Natasha flinches away as a frightened and pained yelp falls from her lips. “Don’t touch me!”

         “Nat! Natasha! It’s me.” He scrambles in front of her, both hands coming up to lightly cup either side of her face and guide her head up, forcing her to look at his face. “Look at me, Tasha. It’s Clint.”

         “Clint?” She breathes out, eyes roaming over his face before making eye contact. Her green eyes fill with moisture as her face drops. Her bottom lip begins to tremble and she squeezes them together desperately trying to keep somewhat of a composure. “Clint…”  

         “Yeah, babygirl. I’m right here.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just gathers up her small body into his arms and pulls her onto his lap. He holds her close against his chest, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as she drops it into the crook of his neck. Natasha’s arms circle his torso, hands tightly fisting into the leather of his vest. “I’ve got you.”

         She’s making a soft keening sound, something he had never heard from her in all their seven years of working together. His other hand rubs up and down her back as he tries in vain to provide any source of comfort. Her bare skin is freezing under his touch, and with her head so close now he can hear her shallow breaths.

         Her body tenses as her stomach rebels suddenly, and she gags against him. He gently repositions, leaning her to the side just in time for bile and stomach acid to fall from her lips. She gasps for air around her broken apologizes. “I. I’m sor-ry. Ow. My head, C. It’s my head. He knocked me-“ She throws up again. “He knocked me out.”

          Her unfocused eyes and bloodied forehead make a lot more sense then. Her behavior as well, aligning more so with someone suffering a severe head injury rather than normally stoic, deadly Black Widow.

         “He. I couldn’t move…” She chokes on a cough. “I didn’t know, where I was.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “I thought I was back in- “

         “I know, sweetheart. I know. You don’t have to say it.” And she doesn’t. His brain fills in the gaps for her. I thought I was back in the Red Room. He knows it’s not even the injuries themselves that are bothering her so much. It’s the pure lack of control, the reminders of a time when she was younger and powerless.

         He is suddenly aware of the voices in his ear calling his name, and he groans in annoyance. He had forgotten about them. He switches his comm back on.

         “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. I have her. She’s... in rough shape.” He looks down at the girl in his lap, brushes her sweaty hair away from where it’s sticking to her face. He repeats their location to them, but then reconsiders upon another glance at Natasha. “Um. Don’t all come at once, though. Maybe just…” He thinks of who else on the team might be best. Thor was immediately out- his energy was too high and Clint couldn’t be sure he would grasp the seriousness of the situation. Tony was out as well; he was sure Natasha wouldn’t want Tony to see her in such a vulnerable position. Banner might have been the best suited person on the team to deal with this, but he also knew just how fond and protective of Natasha Bruce was, and he worried about the Other Guy making an appearance. “Steve. And bring some extra clothes.” Steve was a good choice. Natasha trusted him, and he was just awkward enough to not say anything stupid or stare at her.

         “Uh, sure. I’ll have to stop by the Quinjet first for the clothes. I’ll be there in a sec.” Clint could hear the unease and questions in his voice. He doesn’t address them.

         Clint pulls away from Natasha, just enough to be able to look her over. Spotting a torn piece of fabric a foot away, he reaches over to grab it, tries not to think about her undershirt he identifies it from. There wasn’t much he could do for her at the moment, but he could at least try to make her a bit more presentable, save her from having the whole team see her a bloody mess.

         He wipes the cloth over her face. She tries to move away, frowning. “Stop, Natasha. Let me help you. It’s okay.” She stops struggling, going still in his hands and letting him continue his administrations. He scrubs the dried blood from her bruised lips and busted forehead. Her hair is tangled and disheveled, so he sets to work on parting it back correctly, smoothing it down with his hands and running his fingers through the curls to work out some of the knots.

         He continues this for several moments, keeping a running dialogue going to help prevent her from falling back into a flashback. He keeps talking until he hears the footsteps of his team member coming up behind them.

         “Clint?” Steve asks, peaking into the room, but not completely entering. Clint angles himself more between the door and Natasha, blocking her naked body from Steve’s view as best he could.

         “Just throw the clothes over here, Steve. Thank you. Can you just wait outside?” Clint asks, and Steve nods, backing out after tossing the old spare SHIELD clothes near them. “Okay, then. Let’s get you dressed, Nat.”

         She nods and quietly agrees. He grabs the T-shirt and holds it out for her, not rushing her in her sluggish movements as she pokes her arms through the arm holes and helps her get it over her head and pulls it down to cover her torso. He grabs the sweatpants next, and is attempting to maneuver her legs through them when she whines and pushes away his hands.

         “Nat…?”

         She whines again in response, and searches the floor for something. Clint sees what she’s looking for, and hands her the previous cloth he used to clean her. She grabs it from him, brings it down to her legs and begins furiously trying to rub away the dried blood on the inside of her thighs. Her hands are clumsy from her head injury though, and she’s not making much progress by herself. Clint can hear her breathing start to increase again- she’s working herself back up, getting frustrated.

         “Hey, Hey, Talia.” He places his hand over hers, stilling her movements. “We can get you cleaned up more as soon as we’re on the jet, okay? I’m sorry I can’t do more right now. Will you let me get these on you first? Once we do, we can get out of here and onto the jet.”

         She nods weakly, dropping the cloth in trade of trying to help Clint with the pants. She’s too concussed to be of any real help, but Clint doesn’t brush her away and allows her to think she’s doing more than she actually is. It’s slow, but the sense of control seems to calm her.

         Once she is dressed again, Clint stands. He reaches down and holds her shoulders to steady her as she shakily follows him up.

         “Think you can walk?” He asks. She nods even as she winces while she takes an experimental step. Clint resists the urge to scoop her into his arms and just carry her. He knows she wouldn’t want the team seeing her having to be carried if not absolutely necessary, and he doesn’t want to take that slight bit of dignity away from her.

         Steve meets them outside, his face tight. He’s picked up Clint’s bow and quiver for him, and is holding Natasha’s gun. He nods at them.

         “I, uh, spoke to the team. Told them to give you guys some space on the way back.” Clint thanks him, and they begin slowly making their way to the Quinjet.

         The ride back is quiet, and although he can’t let Natasha fall asleep like she wants too, it doesn’t stop him from cradling her in his arms all the way home.

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 19: She’s Come Undone

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena confronts Lucifer about his actions.

Warnings: Slurs, abuse, biphobia

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

"Well… Then he's not the boy for me, is he?"

Those words had fallen from Rowena's lips so easily earlier, so carelessly, as if breaking it off would cost her nothing.

It would cost her everything. Much more than she was willing to pay.

But, damn, if she wasn't willing to risk it at this point.

Lucifer had crossed the line.

Pushing her around, shoving her into walls, hitting her was one thing.

Going after you?

A mistake.

It would cost him.

Good god, it would cost him.

Rowena had had enough.

She'd texted him earlier, asking to meet up. He'd responded with his usual sweet words, but she'd ignored them; they were empty of any meaning, there only to change her mind, to manipulate her into forgetting what had happened and giving him what, at this point, must have been the thousandth chance.

She'd run out of patience. He hadn't deserve any of the ones she'd given him, and he certainly didn't deserve one now.

If he wanted to save their relationship, he'd better have a bloody good apology.

No excuses, no promises he would do better, that he would change — she'd had enough of those. They were as empty as his compliments and pet names.

He hadn't just harmed her this time.

He'd gone after you. Attacked you, threatened you, made ludicrous demands.

Rowena wouldn't stop hanging out with you. Wouldn't stop being your friend. She'd made it clear last time, and she would make it even clearer again.

If Lucifer had a problem with it, then…

Well, he had a choice to make.

As did she.

And if it came between you and him, she knew whose side she would take. The consequences be damned.

They agreed to meet at his place later this afternoon. His family would be gone, and they would have the entire place to themselves.

To talk.

If he expected her to stay over for sex, he was gravely mistaken.

Right now, the mere thought of touching him made her stomach turn.

Anything other than a conversation was out of the question.

Lucifer opened the door for her, the smile on his mouth wide and beautiful. Once upon a time it would have warmed her heart. Now it just disgusted her. There was no meaning behind it, no warmth; it was a yet another manipulation tactic, only this time she wasn't falling for it.

"Hi, Red!" he greeted happily. "So glad you came." He looked her over, drunk her body, which was wrapped into a coat and knee-high boots, in. Undressed her with his stare. "Looking gorgeous as ever."

That was genuine.

Whatever his feelings about her were, he loved her body. Loved to ogle it, to touch it, to use it whenever he saw fit.

It used to flatter her. Used to make her feel accomplished to have the most popular boy in school be so openly attracted to her.

Little did she know back then, it was only her body he liked.

Her, not so much.

Well, she didn't like him very much, either.

She liked his popularity, his body, the sweet words he fed her every now and then when he pretended. She knew they were lies, but she liked them. They were hers, only hers; other girls could only dream of him speaking that way to them.

But the real him, the violent beast, the ticking time bomb? She hated that boy from the depths of her soul.

"I'm here to talk," she said and pushed her way inside, purposely shoving his shoulder with hers with as much strength as she could muster.

The house was huge and warm. She hung her coat on the hanger, happy to finally be out of it. The air outside froze her to the bone. Patches of ice had already begun to form on the sidewalk; if the forecast were to be believed, the roads would freeze overnight. Going to school tomorrow would be quite an adventure.

"You seem angry," Lucifer commented as he led her to his room.

Rowena walked beside him, knowing the way by heart.

"Whatever makes you think that?" she snarked, words dripping with sarcasm.

Once they were inside, he closed the door and sighed. "You know I don't like that loser bitch."

Straight to the point, eh?

Fine by her.

"And you know that 'loser bitch' is my friend."

He scoffed. "Is she now? I thought you were just hanging out."

You were. Weeks ago. Back when she wasn't sure what she thought — what she was allowed to think — about being around you.

Now she fucking loved it.

"Things changed," she said simply.

"So did you," he accused. "Since when are you friends with losers?"

Since she got to know you better and got a chance to realize things weren't what they seemed. That you weren't what you seemed. You weren't just a loser, a measly girl at the bottom of the barrel, coated in dirt and grime. You were a person. You loved your life the way it was, lived it to the fullest. Hurt no one.

Rowena, on the other hand, hated hers and had done nothing but hurt people in the last four years.

Maybe she'd made a mistake. Maybe she should have aimed for something other than popularity. Something that would make her happy instead of making her put on fake smiles and layers of makeup to hide her misery.

You had friends who loved you.

She had friends who could barely stand her and a boyfriend who treated her like shit.

"Who I'm friends with is none of your concern," Rowena said.

Lucifer sighed. "Rowena, we talked about this."

"We did. And you agreed to stay out of my business."

It was one of the conditions of her forgiving him — or pretending to do so for she would never, ever, forgive him for what he'd put her through. She could put it behind her, move on, but she could never forgive and forget. His mistreatment — his abuse, and, god, did it feel good to admit it for what it truly was — would stay with her for as long as she lived. Would remain seared into her mind, into her soul, into her heart.

Was it worth it, at this point? Could she still put up with it?

He hadn't hit her in a while, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Lucifer could never control himself for too long.

Next time he gave her puppy eyes, took her out, and bought her something expensive, would she take him back? Would she get over it?

"That was before she started putting moves on you!"

Rowena blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. "What in hell are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "I've seen the way she looks at you!"

She couldn't help it — she laughed, loudly and heartily. Laughed until her stomach hurt.

"You're bloody mental!"

You were right — he was completely off his rocker.

You were her friend. Nothing more and nothing less. Yes, she preferred your company to Lucifer's, and yes, if she had to choose, she would rather be with you than him. She couldn't define what she felt for you — didn't dare define it for doing so would make it real and she couldn't deal with that right now — but your relationship was strictly platonic.

The worst you did was hold hands two times.

It felt much nicer, much more intimate, than when she held hands with Lucifer, but it wasn't flirting. It wasn't cheating. It was friendship.

"I'm mental? She wants to fuck your brains out every time you go near her — and I'm the crazy one?"

Well, yes.

"She doesn't want anything of the sort!" Rowena argued.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Rowena! That bitch keeps ogling you and you're defending her."

Even if you did, so what? She was gorgeous. The more people that noticed, the better.

"You know she's a dyke, right?"

Were you?

She'd seen you compliment both actors and actresses; if there was attraction to any of it, she hadn't noticed. And it didn't matter. Your sexuality — whatever it was — was none of her business.

"What does her sexuality have to do with this?"

"Isn't it obvious? She wants you." Lucifer stepped closer. Looked her straight in the eyes, his blue ones shooting darts, cold and icy, into the depth of her soul. "And you want her."

"That's ridiculous!" Rowena exclaimed.

"Is it?" He cocked his head to the side, pretending to ponder on it. "You're a dyke, too. I know how you guys work."

Did he, now?

He seemed to know a lot of words whose meanings he didn't appear to grasp.

"Do you bloody hear yourself?" Rowena exploded, bursting with anger. Her fingers balled into fists, skin taut and sheet-white on her knuckles. "I'm bisexual, so I must be unfaithful, is it? What bloody century are you from, Lucifer?"

She knew he was ignorant, but this?

Disgusting.

She was a lot of things, but she'd never been unfaithful. Had never cheated on neither him nor the boys before him.

That wasn't her.

She did have feelings for you, quite strong ones, but she'd never acted on them. Would never do so. Not when she was in a relationship.

The fact that he even thought so…

You were right. She deserved better. Much better than the brute in front of her.

"Oh, don't give me that shit! It's a risk and you know it!"

A risk?

A bloody risk?

That was what he thought about her? That she was at risk of cheating? For no reason other than her sexuality?

"That is," he added, "unless you've already gone through with it."

Goodness!

Rowena was brimming with anger. Boiling hot and dangerous. "You're an arsehole!"

Even worse — an ignorant arsehole.

Why was she surprised?

She'd heard him say worse. Had seen him do worse. She'd been the recipient of his arseholery more times than she dared count.

Lucifer was a bastard. A colossal numbnut. A cunt.

This wasn't new behaviour.

He'd always been this way. Rowena had just refused to see it for seeing it would make it real, would shatter her illusion of a relationship that should have been perfect but was everything but.

A relationship she'd dreamed of, only to end up in a nightmare.

She should have broken it up.

Right here.

Right now.

She should have said the magic words and ended it once and for all.

But…

If she did that, what would she have? Who would she be?

If she lost Lucifer, she would lose Olivette — and with her the rest of their little group — along with him. Olivette would never forgive her for giving him up. Especially over something so—

No.

It wasn't stupid.

She had legitimate reasons to leave him.

But Olivette wouldn't give a damn.

All she would see would be Rowena leaving Lucifer over a meaningless girl, a girl Rowena shouldn't be friends with in the first place, unwritten rules and all. Nothing else would matter. Hell, Rowena was pretty sure Olivette would think her a liar if she were to tell her about the abuse.

Without Olivette, Rowena had nothing. Was nothing. Just like back in Scotland, and that was something she'd sworn on her life never to go back to.

She couldn't break up with Lucifer, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how right doing so would be.

There was too much at stake.

"What am I supposed to think when you're always with her?" Lucifer said. "I barely see you!"

"I told you we'd be studying for the midterm!" Rowena snapped.

"Every fucking day!"

"Oh, don't be bloody dramatic! It's not every day."

Almost every day.

Almost.

You weren't strictly studying all the time. Plenty of laughs were exchanged, jokes told, stupid movies watched and mocked.

It was easy to hang out with you. Freeing. She didn't have to put on a show every time, pretend to be somebody she wasn't.

With Lucifer, everything she did, every word she told, every expression on her face was calculated, planned. A chore more demanding than those her mother sometimes asked her to do.

With you, on the other hand, she could just be herself. No social norms to uphold. No regulations. No rules. Just fun.

"Might as well be," Lucifer said. "You see her more than you see me."

Because you understood her.

Because you were kind to her.

Because you respected her.

Because being with you felt right, while being with him felt like a chore, an obligation. A duty she upheld only because it was expected of her.

You might have been a nobody in the school's hierarchy, but you were worth a million — a trillion — Lucifers.

"Maybe I'd see you more if you weren't such a numbnut!" Rowena spat.

Lucifer gave her a look that threatened murder. "So it's my fault you're cheating?"

"For the last time, I am not cheating!" But, good god, she was tempted. After everything, she wanted to do it just to piss him off. "Why are you so hung up over this? Are you trying to hide something?"

That caught him off guard. "What?"

"Fergus told me he saw you with another girl."

She'd chalked it up to her brother being a nuisance. But what if he'd told her the truth? What if he'd really seen Lucifer cheat?

Now that she thought of it, it didn't sound like Fergus to make things like that up. He was a colossal numbnut, a constant pain in her arse, but he didn't lie. He never did. He wouldn't have told her he'd seen Lucifer with another girl if it wasn't true.

He most likely wanted to piss her off rather than help her, but whatever his intentions were, Rowena was certain of one thing — her brother was no liar.

Lucifer was appalled by the accusation. "And you believe him?"

"Should I?" Rowena inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"No! You know your brother. He's an annoying little shit. He'd do anything to fuck with you."

"Och, I don't know. He seemed quite honest to me."

More honest, in fact, than Lucifer was being right now.

"This is ridiculous!"

"Is it? You seem quite intent on shifting the blame on me," she pointed out. "Almost like you're projecting."

"Fuck you, Rowena!"

"So you are."

He might not have said yes, but it was all the confirmation she needed.

He had cheated.

To her surprise, Rowena didn't feel anything. She expected there to be at least a shred of disappointment, a slight pang of heartache. Something. Anything.

There was nothing.

Her emotions were a blank, a canvas that used to be bright with colors, that was now as empty as the walls that surrounded her.

She thought she loved him, but she didn't. Whatever it was she'd clung to all this time, through all the bad and horrible, it wasn't affection.

Lucifer cheated on her, and it didn't hurt. Not a single bit.

"You've some nerve to throw accusations at me when you're the one fucking around!"

New anger bubbled in her, hot as lava in her veins. How dare he treat her like that? How dare he act as if she were the villain?

How dare he put his hands on you, try to chase you out of her life under the guise of a caring boyfriend, while stabbing her in the back with razor-sharp knives?

Rage flashed in his eyes, red hot, steaming. His hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging into her sensitive skin deep enough to leave bruises. In a swift, practiced motion, he pushed her back, straight into the hard wall.

Rowena gasped. Pain exploded in her back, running down the length of her spine. The familiar fear filled her, but she swallowed it, held it back for as long as she could. She wouldn't let him break her. Never again.

She'd had enough of being his quiet little punching bag.

"Maybe I wouldn't need to look for company if my girlfriend actually spent time with me!" he snarled. No more lies. No facades. Just the truth in all its ugly glory.

"Maybe I would spend time with you if you weren't such a brute!" she retorted.

Two could play this game.

And, god, she was ready for her turn.

"I'm just protecting what's mine."

She snorted. "Aren't you prince Charming?"

The slap came swiftly, snapped across her left cheek like the crack of a whip. Her head flung sideways, skin tingling, nerves on fire.

She bit back the pain. "Is this your way of protecting me?"

He brought his hand to her chest. Pressed it against it. Shoved his face in hers, the look in his eyes dark, threatening. "You're mine, Rowena. I made you."

So he kept saying.

And he had — were it not for him and Olivette, she would have been a nobody, just another pathetic girl in the crowd.

Still…

He didn't get to treat her like this.

Didn't get to push her around. Hit her. Threaten her.

Didn't get to cheat on her.

But what could she do about it?

He was the one with all the power.

She was just borrowing it.

"I'm not gonna let you go around tarnishing my name by hanging around nobodies."

Rowena had to chuckle at that. "You do a bloody good job at that yourself."

Another slap.

Mustering up her strength, she pushed him away, then slapped him right back.

His fist retaliated immediately, connecting with her nose in a painful thump. A trickle of blood slid from her nostril, trailing over her lips before dripping onto her shirt. His hands were on her in a split second, one slamming into her shoulder while the other wrapped around her neck like a snake.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" she wheezed, struggling for breath.

His grip tightened.

"You've grown quite a mouth these past few months," he said. "Courtesy of your new friend, I take it."

Rowena gulped. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all the words in her head a jumble, a mess she couldn't decipher. Her heart raced madly, pounded against her chest so hard it hurt.

"I've always had a mouth," she wanted to say, but couldn't.

She couldn't say anything.

Couldn't do anything.

She tried to swing at him, tried to push him away, but he subdued her with ease. As if her attempts at resistance were nothing.

She had no chance.

She couldn't fight him off. Couldn't defend herself. Couldn't tell him to his face how much she loathed him, how her soul burned with it.

"I don't like it," Lucifer added in a low voice, almost a purr.

Rowena's stomach turned with disgust.

"F-f-f-f-f—" she tried, willing — begging — the words to break free.

He smirked, enjoying her struggle. "What was that?"

His grip loosened a tad; not much, but enough for her to take a gulp of breath and shout, with everything she had, "F-fuck you!"

He responded by slamming her back in the wall, harder than before. She gasped, new pain taking over, as the back of her head slammed against the hard surface. Her ears rang like an alarm going off, loud, deafening.

A slap came, sharp against her cheek. Then another. And another.

Then, growling like a wild, deadly animal, Lucifer backhanded her and she collapsed to the hardwood floor, limp as a statue.

Her knees exploded with pain as they connected with the floor, bones screaming, nerves tingling, white hot. She pushed herself up by her palms. She sucked in breaths, deep, painful; her throat burned, but she kept gasping like a fish out of water, swallowing the sweet, so, so precious oxygen she'd been denied.

"From now on, we're doing things my way," Lucifer said. "I tried to compromise, but you keep finding loopholes. No more." He crouched down next to her. "You are to cut all contact with Sam Winchester and especially Y/N."

Her neck was in agony, but Rowena willed herself to look up at him. Locked her eyes with his in a look of pure defiance, of spite, of everything she was feeling about him. "No."

His behaviour had made the decision easy.

He didn't get to order her around.

Not anymore.

He cupped her bruised cheek. She flinched, expecting another slap, but his touch was strangely gentle, caring.

An attempt at manipulation she wasn't falling for anymore.

"Don't you see what they're doing to us? What she's doing to us?" he said sweetly, dark features softening up. The picture of a caring boyfriend. A sloppy forgery. "She's ruining us, Rowena."

Rowena was disgusted. "You're the one who's ruining us, Lucifer." She spat his name as if it was poison.

He bit back another outburst, urging the facade to remain. "I just want to spend some quality time with my girl. What's so wrong with that?"

"Something is wrong with you," she retorted.

He quirked up an eyebrow. "Is it now?"

"You're unhinged!"

She knew she should keep her mouth shut. Knew she shouldn't provoke him, shouldn't anger him further. But she didn't care.

She was done being his victim. Done keeping quiet while he threw tantrums like an overgrown child. Done letting him do what he wanted, letting him get away with things just because he was her boyfriend.

She was so bloody done with him.

"You think beating on me makes you a man? Think twice, Lucille!" She shot him a glare that threatened death. "What you are is a coward!"

Lucifer shot up to stand upright and swung his foot, landing it in her gut. She grunted, her hand instantly pressing against the new point of pain.

"You're a bitch!" he snarled.

Rowena chuckled through the pain. "Just as I said — a coward."

"Shut your mouth!"

He kicked her again, this time in the ribs, eliciting a loud yelp.

"Bloody coward," she kept on. "Can't get me to spend time with you, so you try to beat me into it. And you wonder why I keep avoiding you."

"Don't—" a kick "—turn—" another "—this—" and another "—around—" one more "—on—" another, strongest one "—me!"

Rowena couldn't hold it in anymore — she howled as loudly as her raw throat allowed, like a wounded animal begging for help.

She knew well enough none would come.

She was alone with Lucifer in his huge house.

No one could hear her screams.

No one would rush in to help her.

No one knew what he was doing to her.

She curled into a ball like a cat, wrapped her arms over her stomach in attempts to soften the blows.

It didn't work.

Lucifer kept kicking her.

Everywhere.

Her arms, ribs, thighs — the rain of blows landed everywhere, struck down like a downpour of pain.

"You pathetic little man," she rasped, barely audible. Her strength had left her; she was hanging by a thread, by sheer force of will. She had but a speck of fight left in her, wee traces of defiance that dissipated with every new strike.

Her face suddenly exploded with pain, raw and angry. Lucifer's hard-soled boot struck her directly in the cheek, mere millimeters from her nose.

She screamed, hand shooting up to cover her throbbing face.

There was no way she was going to be able to hide these injuries.

Clothes and makeup used to do the trick.

But this — this was too much.

He'd never beaten her like this before.

What was she going to tell her family?

What was she going to tell the teachers?

What was she going to tell you?

Lucifer gave a small laugh that sent cold shivers down her spine. "Look at yourself. So… squirmy. Yet you call me pathetic."

Because you are, she thought.

She tried to voice it, but her mouth trembled too much to let the words out.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe she was pathetic.

It didn't make him any less so.

A silence fell between them, shattered only by her gasps and hitches.

Then he said in a voice cold as ice, "Get out. I can't stand to look at you."

The feeling was mutual.

Rowena remained lying down for a few moments, gathering up strength she didn't have. Slowly, cautiously, she pushed herself up by her elbows and worked her way up to her knees. Her body was in agony, protesting every movement, but she pushed through it.

She needed to get out.

Needed to get away from him.

Needed to make herself some tea and lock herself in her room until the pain subsided and fear that froze her blood dissipated.

Grabbing onto the bed frame for support, she pulled herself to her feet. Her legs were throbbing, shaking under the weight of her body. She took a step toward the door and stumbled, quickly leaning against the wall to keep her balance.

Lucifer stood aside. His eyes tracked her movements, mouth curled into a smirk at her misery.

The bastard was enjoying this.

Rowena turned her head. He wasn't there, she told herself. She was alone and she needed to get out. Lucifer didn't exist.

It was a chore, but she managed to stumble out of his room. She kept an iron grip on the stair railing as she descended, slowly picking up the pace with each step.

One foot in front of the other.

One, then the other.

She could do it.

Once she was outside, she took a deep, long breath. The icy air chilled her lungs, but she kept swallowing it, kept sucking it in.

She was free.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she was free.

The night had already fallen, the moon, full and bright, hanging up in the sky like a lantern, lighting up the town. Ice had started forming on the pathway, the concrete slippery under her boots.

Rowena kept on walking.

Step by step.

One foot in front of the other.

She could do it.

She could make it home.

She could do anything now that she was away from Lucifer.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

[singingunderthecurtain]

Au Fait [M]

Author: julietsoddeye Genre: Smut | Coworker/Office AU Pairing: D.O. x Female Reader Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: uuuhhhh Smut, Language

Plot: He isn’t just your new senior at work, he was also your one night stand!!!

A/N: My dude @akutagawahakuryuunosuke, gosh! I’m sorry, I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING ME THIS LONG TO WRITE THIS!!! 😭😭😭

It hasn’t been an hour since you started at your new job and you’re already considering quitting.

The aura at the office?

Feels good!

The salary they offered?

Great!

And your placement with the cubicles?

Just perfect!

Free food and the coffee machine they used in the pantry?

Even better!

But all of that is in vain the moment you saw who your senior was and is assigned to coach and show your way around in the company.

It was the guy who you had a one night stand with just a couple of weekends ago!

It wouldn’t have to be awkward at all, if not for you to purposely not contact him. You were even pretending to still be asleep when he was scribbling his name and mobile number on a piece of scratch paper he randomly found on your desk.

He was attractive, very cute and very manly at the same time. Talks a lot about his passion for knives and cooking (lowkey weird, but he was too charming as he talks about those), a nice fuck too, honestly. He cuddled you to death and even had an actual conversation with you right after. And not just fell right asleep like the other guys you’ve been with.

But one night stands should be left as it is, a One Night Stand. You’re a firm believer of that. So you regretfully threw away his number, even though he has potentials of being a great buddy and possibly even a boyfriend.

“Meet Do Kyungsoo-ssi, he will take over now to help you with everything.”

And here you are, trying not to vomit your breakfast as Byun Baekhyun, the HR department guy mentions your name to introduce you to your new coworker!

Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to remember you at all because for the whole week he hasn’t mentioned anything to you. He was nothing but courteous and polished during training time, but very indifferent during lunch break.

Everyone kind of sits in one huge table during lunch (except for when a few others decided to lunch out of the office premises), but every single person has their own cliques they talk to and sit with. Kyungsoo has his, but he seems quiet even when they’re literally messing with each other at their spot on the table.

Hyerim, one of the girls you’ve already become close to, said that Kyungsoo is very professional but cold outside of anything work-related. She hasn’t seen him smile outside of talking to Park Chanyeol, that tall guy who was your cubicle neighbor.

You almost told her that the only thing you remember Kyungsoo by was his pretty smile, a very significant contrast to the ‘Office Kyungsoo’ you know today. But you stopped yourself from babbling too much before you reveal to her your not-so-distant and not-so-deep past with Kyungsoo.

Almost three weeks have already passed by and you’re feeling absolutely content with this new job. The bosses and your coworkers were great to you and to each other even. No major lashes except maybe when Chanyeol and Jongdae fight with their lives of who will choose the next establishment you will be having your weekly dining or drinking out.

It was a Thursday night when you accidentally bump into Kyungsoo at the parking lot of the building. You never go to the parking lot because you have no car and you only take the bus to and from work.

He asked if you’ve already eaten dinner and if you would let him drive you home or somewhere else you needed to be. You politely decline, saying you have plans with your roommate and that was the only reason why you’re at the parking lot anyway.

Just in time, your friend arrived to pick you up. He then flashed you a disappointed look for a quarter of a second before showing his usual smile and then said goodbye.

The next day he asked if you could stay a bit longer after working hours because he needed your help to do something. He said that it will not take that much time and the both of you will be able to follow your colleagues to the bar your boss, Junmyeon, suggested going to tonight.

Automatically, you said yes. Oblivious to the flirty signs he has been throwing your way the whole day. Even the ever so quiet and meek Minseok can tell Kyungsoo’s been really amorous. All you can think about is the extra zeros that will be added to your paycheck for the overtime you spend in the office. Living in the middle of the city doesn’t come cheap, there are bills that are needed to be settled.

“Kyungsoo-ssi, I think I foun… OOF—”

You didn’t realize that Kyungsoo would be right behind you. You were so focused on finding the needed record he asked you for help finding in the small space the filing room provided. You almost fell butt-first, but Kyungsoo caught you just in time. The folder of papers in his hand scatters everywhere when he chose to grab you instead.

You’ve only ever watched it in the movies, but it is true that memories flash right in front of you when triggered by something. In this case, Kyungsoo’s touch prompted your stupid, stupid brain and you were reminded again of everything. Everything that happened that night.

His touch.

His kisses.

His stories.

Especially his interesting stories. You were so into him because he was interesting, his performance in bed was just an added bonus to the package.

You shake your head vigorously, ridding your mind of the pictures of the previous encounter you had with this fine as hell man right in front of you.

“Uhh… Are you… Okay?”

You stood immediately, clearing your throat as you straighten your shirt.

“I… Uh, yeah I’m okay. I’m so–sorry.”

Goddammit, why are you even stuttering? Why are you suddenly nervous? It’s probably because you almost died if not for him catching your fall.

Yeah, that’s probably why.

“It’s fine. Are you sure you’re really okay?”

Kyungsoo smiled but the concern is laced around it.

GOD!

You don’t know why or how it happened, but Kyungsoo is suddenly pushing you towards a filing cabinet as you suck each other’s mouths dry. You dropped the folder-binded data and your left hand found its way to grip his short hair with passion while the other snaked around his shoulder from under his arm.

When the back of your thighs hits the drawer, Kyungsoo squeezes your ass firmly before sliding his hands down your legs to hike your pencil skirt up to your hips.

Grabbing your now barely clothed butt again, he scoops you up and sits you down on the cold metal filing cabinet while still making out with you.

“Up until now, I was still waiting for your call.”

He manages to deliver a perfect sentence even if the situation is getting hotter. You’re already out of breath, but he doesn't seem affected much. Although the bulge you feel on your thighs from his crotch says otherwise.

“Yo–You remember?”

You took a sharp breath and almost moaned out your answer when his fingers swiped a single line along your clothed heat, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself to talk.

“Of course. I don’t do one night stands, baby. I left my number because I wanted to see you again.”

Your eyes are slowly closing, while his are staring right in between your face. His expression patient but seriously waiting for a response from your lips while his fingers continue to rub you so, so good. You wanted to gyrate your hips to add more friction, but his hand is pinning down one of your thighs very firmly.

“I– I think I–”

You pause and hiss when his digits slip in from the side of your underwear. He hums for you to continue your words when you ended up just biting your lower lip as he strokes and tease your clit.

“I may have l–lost the paper.”

You lied. And it must’ve been convincing because he smiled sweetly.

“I understand,”

Without another word, Kyungsoo pulls out his fingers from your middle and started tugging your underwear off of you. You help him by pushing yourself up and your panties may have ripped a little bit when he yanked it carelessly.

You squeaked a bit and he made an expression in return.

“I’ll buy you a new one, sorry.”

It doesn’t matter to you, it’s just underwear. You have tons at home which he can rip off of you all he wanted.

Kyungsoo took a tiny step back to unbuckle his belt and you watch him remove his pants in anticipation.

“I’m glad I found you again, Kyungsoo… Shi–”

You lower your head and bit your lip abashedly. You weren’t supposed to say that out loud but Kyungsoo captures your chin between his fingers to pull your head up again.

“Me too.”

The way he looks at you almost made you melt into a useless puddle of goo.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!?”

Both you and Kyunsoo look towards the direction of the door and your stomach fell out of your ass when you see Chanyeol with his jaws down to the floor.

-fin-

[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day - Ch. 12: The Ancient Power (Gravity Falls - Same Coin Theory)

Summary: We’ve seen how Stan remembers. Now: how Bill forgets.

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947964/chapters/45565759

Previous / Next

The Beginning

(The Same Coin Theory is by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris!)

***

It was when he first encountered the Axolotl — eons and eons ago, while giving the more obscure and least comprehensible corners of the multiverse a quick look-over as he often did when bored — that Bill Cipher first realized that there was someone who knew and saw more than he did.

It wasn’t a pleasant realization. He was the All-Seeing, All-Knowing Eye; omniscience was his brand. He was the ancient, elusive god of mysteries and answers — and, on good days, brief little glimpses into the future.

(Not that he often acted on those glimpses — they tended to be about things he either couldn’t change, or didn’t want to change — but dropping cryptic warnings into conversations with mortals was always fun, as well as a good way to remind them who was really the brains of the operation.)

But the Axolotl existed outside of time entirely. It had already seen what was yet to come to pass — it had seen it last night, and a century ago, and would see it fifteen million years down the line. It was seeing it now, and seeing it always: if Bill could occasionally switch the metaphorical channel of his sight from “present time” to “five hours in the future,” then the Axolotl was constantly watching every channel, every second and millisecond and nanosecond of existence and so on to an infinitesimal degree. It not only knew everything, but had always known everything and always would.

And Bill hated that.

“This only upsets you because you fear the unknown,” the Axolotl told him, its voice echoing like Bill’s own, but also more pleasant on the ears, more musical.

“Psssh, yeah! Right!” Bill scoffed. “Do I look like I have anything to be afraid of, Frills? I’m the incorporeal king of nightmares and my throne is built from intangible screams of mortal terror! Fear is — is breakfast for me! Serve me up all the fear in the world!”

The Axolotl tilted its head. “Deny it if you must,” it replied, “but your actions will tell another story.”

“Oh, so we’re playing the cryptic remarks card now? Well, I’ve got nothing left to gain from this conversation.” With that, Bill willed himself out of the time and space between time and space, leaving behind a triangle-shaped ripple in the fabric of the universe.

But in his haste, he failed to notice the Axolotl’s massive tail curling around five human figures, all of them shrouded in pink mist as they watched his exit intently.

***

It was during his second encounter with the Axolotl, somewhere in the realm of a million years later, when Bill Cipher was warned.

“One day,” it told him, “you’ll be so afraid of the inevitable unknown that you’ll beg me for help, and I will help you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Bill blurted out immediately, cringing as he realized how much he sounded like a naive little kid pleading his case to stay up late and be told spooky stories.

The Axolotl kept talking, as if it hadn’t heard him. “But it won’t be a free pass onto a new life of your choosing. It will be a catalyst for an unimaginable change, and the start of a long, hard path — but I know you will have it in you to succeed.”

“I don’t need you to believe in me like some proud, overinvested parent,” Bill shot back, making a show out of straightening his top hat and bow tie. “Do I look like a guy who has problems with self-confidence?”

The Axolotl just smiled at him, with its big, smug, frill-wreathed face.

“Invoke my name, Cipher, and time itself will contort to bring you back from the ashes.”

Once again, Bill willed himself back to the Nightmare Realm without noticing the five figures — not even the one that stood further forward than the others, the one that had first stared at Bill slack-jawed and dumbfounded, but now straightened his back with a confident, imposing sort of determination, and curled his fingers into fists.

***

Bill rifled through Ford’s memories — high school bullies, college all-nighters, a fiercely regretted discovery of a cave in the woods of Gravity Falls — as simply as one might flip through the pages of a book, scoffing at the man’s loneliness and need for validation. But Bill already knew all about that — it was what he’d preyed upon, how he’d gotten his portal built in the first place. No, tonight he was looking not for a general weakness, but for some specific memory, something he could purposely throw back in the six-fingered freak’s face later —

But now, he was struck with a wave of… familiarity?

A hand reaching to mess up a head of brown hair.

“Don’t listen to them, Sixer. I think you’re pretty cool!”

A knock on the leg of a bunk bed.

“Morning, smart guy!”

A reassuring hand on the shoulder.

“You heard it here first, Stanford Pines is gonna be known as the guy who changed the world!”

Switched outfits, a striped shirt in place of a brown jacket.

“Okay, Brainiac, today I’m gonna teach you how to lie…”

Bill withdrew from Ford’s memories with a jolt — not quite angrily, not quite sadly, but driven by something fierce and consuming, some feeling that he wasn’t used to and wanted to be rid of as fast as he could. Wrenching Ford’s body out of its slumber, he flipped through a journal with shaky hands and just so happened to notice a code he’d scrawled a few nights ago —

I ASK YOU WHY MUST TIME ONLY MOVE FORWARDS

WHY MUST CAUSE PRECEDE EFFECT

WHO VOTED ON THE LAWS OF PHYSICS

***

The third time he encountered the Axolotl, Bill Cipher was trying to save himself, but ended up killing himself in more ways than one.

Blue-white flames consumed walls from the ground up, and transformed exit doors into impassable infernos. Bill had practically forgotten what hot truly felt like, but he knew this was worse than anything he’d ever felt before — it was eating away at his very essence, suffocating his own flames and threatening to choke out everything that made him him.

Stanley’s mouth moved, but the voice felt like it was coming from inside Bill’s own mind, words spat through gritted teeth threatening to rip apart his consciousness.

“You’re a real wise guy, but you made one fatal mistake. You messed with my family!”

“You’re making a mistake, I’ll give you anything! Money! Fame! Riches! Infinite power, your own galaxy!!”

He was struck with a sudden vision — a static-corrupted and not quite real-time clip of a triangular statue resting in a forest, dark beneath the shadows of pine trees even as bright afternoon light spilled down from the blue summer sky above.

“PLEASE! HELP! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!”

In a panic, he fumbled after the last few sparks left in his draining pool of energy, trying to channel them into his form and grow big enough to smash right out of Stan’s strangely well-disguised mortal mindscape, but his body melted and struck the floor almost instantly, only growing more unstable and difficult to hold together by the second — and seconds were all he had left.

Invoke my name, Cipher.

“NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I!”

And time itself will contort to bring you back from the ashes.

“NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM L-T-O-L-O-X-A!”

Stan pulled back his fist, winding up for a punch, and time slowed to a crawl. Blue flames froze in place, and the frenzied roar of a collapsing mindscape faded to a drawn-out, agonized groan before at last giving way to silence.

Then the scene began to fade as Bill found himself paralyzed, helplessly watching pink mist seep into the room. The fires grew dim, all colors turning pastel and all clarity lost to a clouded blur, until all he could see were pink cumulus clouds drifting carelessly across a blue, star-speckled sky.

(He was thrust back to the independent demises of a million different civilizations across billions of years, but he hardly heard the screams as he found himself in a flat world, a gray world, a despised yet fiercely missed world where he struggled to leaf through an oversized book that spoke of Points and Lines and Spheres and colors…)

Two beady black eyes opened in front of him, and a familiar head emerged from the clouds with a satisfied smile on its face.

“I see you invoked my name,” the Axolotl said, a hint of smugness dripping from its melodic voice. “So you do fear what lies beyond death.”

“Ya got me, Frills!” Bill shouted, hoping that sheer volume would be enough to disguise how much he was shaking. “You really did! I panicked and I invoked you, so — so what’s the fuckin’ catch already?”

“Catch?” the Axolotl asked innocently, gills twitching.

“That shtick you gave me last time about a ‘hard path!’ I know how you work, Frills — you’re not gonna let me go without some lesson as punishment — so have at it already! Dump me into whatever new existence you’ve decided I deserve, and get it over with!”

The Axolotl frowned. “You misunderstand, Cipher. It’s not about what you deserve.”

“Then what the fuck is it supposed to be about?!” Bill could feel the fire rising up in the core of his essence once again, about to rupture him beyond any hope of repair, but he kept shouting. He couldn’t stop. “WHY DID I EVEN INVOKE —”

“It’s about where you’ve got the potential to change,” someone interrupted, and for a moment, Bill thought that the Axolotl’s voice had inexplicably grown low and gruff, abruptly developing a Jersey accent as it spoke with a quiet confidence —

But then a flicker of motion towards the Axolotl’s tail caught his attention, and finally, he noticed the five familiar figures — less bruised and battered than he’d last seen them, yet still impossible to mistake. Four of them stood in a straight line, Pine Tree and Shooting Star close together and flanked by Question Mark and Sixer, while in front of them…

In front of them was the Pines that Bill had always paid the least attention to — the one he’d never had a nickname for. With tousled gray hair and and a plain white shirt, Stan looked unassuming and out-of-place here at the fringes of the multiverse, but his narrowed eyes took in the scene exactly like they had seen it all before, bright golden sparks of recognition dancing within brown irises.

“It’s not about what you deserve because you don’t deserve anything, Bill,” he calmly explained. “You don’t deserve to live in the first place. But about six decades later, in your future…”

He took a deep breath, and recalled from Bill’s perspective that his family was currently smiling at him from behind his back, proud and encouraging as ever.

So Stan smiled too.

“I will.”

“No,” Bill stammered. “Are you — are you saying that you’re me? ‘Cause I’m nothing like you! There’s no way I’ll become you, I’ll —”

Stan snorted and extended a hand in Bill’s direction, palm facing up as blue flames danced across it. “Man, we’ve always both been good at lying to ourselves, haven’t we?”

For the first time in nearly a trillion years, Bill Cipher felt the physical sensation of a chill running through him.

What had he ever truly been if not a con man? If not a stubborn, scheming scam artist?

“But hey, you’re half-right!” Stan went on. “You’re becoming me and there’s nothing you can do about it —”

He made a fist, and the flames were instantly extinguished. “But I’m definitely nothing like you.”

“You — you — you can’t light your hands on fire and seriously believe that!” Bill sputtered. “If you really are me in the future, then you’re the one lying to yourself if you think you’re anything other than a ticking time bomb! You’re still gonna be Bill Cipher forever, buddy, and you show it whether you know it or not!”

Stan directed his gaze towards the clouds below, biting his lip. A ways behind him, Dipper started to step forwards, but Ford gently rested a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

“It’s almost hilarious how bad you are at playing the hero! All you’re good at is lying and stealing — oh, and ruining and destroying things too, can’t forget that! You know, I never got why you were so obsessed with turning the portal back on to save someone who hated you so much — but all this time it was just a favor for your past self, wasn’t it? Kickstarting the apocalypse for an old pal! We want the same things, you and I — no matter how incompetent you are at actually getting them!”

Stan’s fists trembled at his sides, but he still didn’t look up.

“But don’t worry, ‘cause your pathetic existence is gonna come to an end real soon!” Bill cackled, rubbing his hands together with glee. “You don’t have to pretend to be these dumbasses’ family anymore — we’ve pulled off the perfect con, you and I! We’ve got a physical form all set up in your dimension and no one’s standing in our way — no quantum destabilizers, no memory guns, no zodiacs! You can rule the world again now — you WILL rule the world again, whether you think you want it or not!”

“That’s all?”

Bill’s delirious laughter cut off abruptly. “What?”

“That’s your whole argument,” Stan murmured, a hint of a smile beginning to develop on his face.

“You’ve got some good points about me ruining everything,” he went on slowly, “and I think I believed it, for a while — I think I believed it before I remembered, even. I never thought I was good for anything, and part of me never believed it whenever anyone told me I was a hero…”

His head snapped up, and Bill flinched when their eyes met.

“But I know something about myself that you don’t.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know that you offered me money, fame, riches, infinite power, my own galaxy, and I didn’t understand how anyone could choose that over their family. I still don’t — and talking to you now, seeing what an egotistical little shit I used to be and how much I’ve changed since — now, I’m sure that I’ll never understand again. I’m better than you, Bill, and I always will be.”

“But — but don’t you remember all the fun we had? We could have that again! Don’t you want —”

“I remember plenty,” Stan growled, “but torturing people isn’t fun. Killing people isn’t fun. Those things are going to keep me up at night for the rest of my life, and I don’t want either of them ever again.”

“No, no, no! You’re wrong! I’ll always —” The heat inside Bill was intensifying, making it harder to hold his form together, but he wasn’t going to let this happen, couldn’t let this happen, had to remind his future self who he was before he forgot everything —

His gaze landed on Ford, watching the argument with eyes that looked tinted red from recent tears.

“Sixer, you can’t possibly believe this! You’re just gonna trust him — trust me — and let us burn you again? You of all people musta let us stab your back more than enough times to get tired of it, right?!”

Stan hid it quickly, but he cringed a little at that line, and shot a nervous glance to Ford, who closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep breath.

“By choosing to be reborn, all you’ve done is ensure that you’ll die more definitively, more completely, than if you had simply been destroyed,” Ford stated. “You could have just been gone — but now, you’ve been changed. You’ve been replaced.”

“No! You can’t get rid of me that easy! I’ll —”

“Oh, yes,” Ford growled. “You will become the antithesis of everything you once were, to the extent that you will even erase your own legacy. You’ll be the one to reverse your own apocalypse, to protect the family you tormented…”

His voice cracked. “And you — you’ll be the one who teaches me to trust again, after all the time you spent isolating me and driving me to paranoia. I don’t trust you, Bill, but I trust my brother — because there is a world of difference between the two of you. You destroy senselessly, but he protects us. He’s helped heal the wounds that you’ve caused.”

“I’ll never really leave your side, Stanford! Is that what you want? No matter what you tell yourself, you know you’ll never be able to really let your guard down around your brother again —”

“The era in which I let you manipulate me into distrusting my friends and family has long since ended, Bill,” Ford shot back without flinching. “You left my side long ago.”

“You really think that I can change? Me? Bill Cipher?!”

“I do,” Ford answered. “It may be a stretch to call my brother mature, in any sense of the word, but he’s most certainly more mature than you. He has changed for the better — in a way that does not often tend to revert.”

“Yeah, you want to know why time is so meaningless?” Stan added. “It’s ‘cause I grew up more in sixty-two years than you did in a trillion. You’ve been around for too many eons to count, but you’re still just a selfish little brat who’s obsessed with playing puppet master.”

“NO!” Bill shrieked. “I won’t become you! I WON’T! I am Bill Cipher, and SO ARE YOU, YOU HEAR ME?! The person you call Stan is — is — is NONEXISTENT!”

“Oh, I hear your whiny little screams in the back of my head all the fucking time,” Stan spat. “Telling me I’m a shit person, telling me I don’t deserve my family, telling me everything I think of myself as being is a lie. Telling me I’m just going to turn into a demon again, and the one good thing I’ve done in my life is going to end up being less than worthless…”

Columns of blue flame erupted from his hands, and he stepped towards Bill, teeth bared. “But you’re an even bigger liar than I am.”

“You — no, we could have ANYTHING! Power without limitations, minions to obey our every order, revenge on anyone who’s ever wronged us! BUT YOU CHOOSE TO BE STANLEY? YOU CHOOSE TO BE MEANINGLESS?”

“I hate to break it to you, wise guy, but you’re already doomed.” Stan took another step closer. “You’re going to be meaningless soon. Everything you think of yourself as standing for is gonna fade away, and all you’re gonna be is just another one of my memories.”

“And memories,” Ford added, “will never take away my brother — not by their absence, and certainly not by their presence.”

Stan’s hands curled into fists, and the columns of fire wound themselves around his fingers, solidifying into shining golden knuckledusters engulfed in a crackling blue aura.

“Hey, Bill?” he asked, smiling innocently.

Bill let out a whimper.

“Will you please say hello, to the folks that I know? Tell them I won’t be long?”

Two scenes play out overlaid upon one another, blurring together into the same decisive, time-defying moment as the burning of Stan’s mindscape resumes from where it left off. Two versions of Stanley Pines swing at Bill — one standing unflinchingly before a backdrop of flames about to consume him, the other channeling a reawoken fire of his own into his resolute, superhuman punch, but both sharing an absolute confidence in what will happen next.

And what happens next for Bill Cipher, as their fists collide with him, is excruciating pain.

The blow from the mindscape is blistering hot with vengeance, the weight of a tremendous but unregretted sacrifice behind it. It’s the love and compassion of a selfless protector that fans the oxygen to these white-hot flames, that fuels Stan’s particular stubborn brand of heroism against which no demon can possibly stand.

This one’s for my family.

The blow from the time and space between time and space is metallic and colder and spiteful in an intimately personal way, as Bill watches his own flames punch a hole in his body — but these flames, this fist, they’re bolstered by a family’s returned love and kindness that brings Stan back from the ashes but doesn’t just stop there. The weight behind the punch is as much Ford and Mabel and Dipper and Soos as it is Stan; it’s their stubbornness and refusal to give up on the good they know they see in their hero, it’s the trust they place in him and foundations for a trust in oneself that they’ve planted for Stan to rebuild upon.

It is fueled by a fresh spark of something new, something defiant, burning deep within Stan’s chest — an ember glowing faintly at first, but holding the potential to become a roaring blaze of self-confidence, of self-acceptance, even self-love.

And this one’s for me.

The punches shatter Bill with ease, eclipsing his own power by countless orders of magnitude, and his fragments scatter, cast adrift in spacetime. Yet a long, pink and blue-finned tail sifts through the fabric of the universe, curling protectively around the shards of a consciousness as it collects them together once again and then carries them back to where it all began…

The sunny New Jersey day of June 15th, 1951, where an all-seeing eye closes, two human ones open, and Bill Cipher forgets.

***

The flames around Stan’s hands died down, and the Axolotl, who had spent most of the confrontation watching from a distance, drifted up to face him.

“Why were you doing in the fishtank all those years?” Stan blurted out.

“Now, there is a limit to how completely I can be somewhere,” the Axolotl told him, “a limit to how much of myself I can manifest in the spacetime that you all are capable of perceiving. But to answer your question, Stan… to the greatest extent that I could, I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be too lonely for those thirty years.”

Stan rubbed his eyes. “You’re such a — a sentimental old salamander. You know that, Frills?”

“An eternally young salamander, actually,” the Axolotl corrected him teasingly, with a gleam in its eyes. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

“We had another question when we came here, but…” Stan wiped away a few tears, and took a deep breath. “But I know the answer now.”

“I thought so.” The Axolotl beamed. “I have a few messages for you all as well. First of all, Ford — Jheselbraum has asked me to say hello. She says that she’s proud of how you fared in the Mindscape… and that she’d like to visit your dimension sometime, which I think could be arranged.”

Ford blinked a few times in owlish confusion, but then a smile spread across his face. “Tell her… tell her I’m immensely grateful for her help, and that I’d love to see her again sometime — and I’m sure the kids would love to meet her, too.”

The Axolotl nodded. “And Stan, one last thing. You invoked me in the clearing as you were beginning to remember, and I heard you, but I did not reply. That was because there was nothing for me to do. You asked me to stop Cipher, but he had no need to be stopped — though you understand that now, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Stan answered, giving up on wiping away his tears as his voice grew choked-up. “Thanks, Axolotl. For everything.”

He turned around to face his family, and spread out his arms. “And thanks for not letting me go.”

The kids were the first to run towards him, and he lifted them up and hugged them tight. Soos quickly followed, wrapping his arms around all of them as he buried his head into Stan’s left shoulder while sobbing with joy.

Ford was the last to join the embrace, but may have hugged the tightest and most fiercely of all of them — not letting go even as the stars and clouds of the Axolotl’s dimension faded away, replaced with sunbeams and trees and a familiar old swingset.

“Thanks for staying with us, Stanley.”

***

pssst reread the beginning of chapter six and you might notice a few familiar lines, I’ve been plotting this scene for a while ;)

This writing experience has been a hell of a journey, and now it’s finally coming to a close! I’ll save my big mushy ramble for the end of next chapter, but I’m getting sentimental over it already. 

But although the end of this fic is nigh, that’s not the end of this specific continuity — I’ve got a few different ideas for sequels (as well as potentially prequels and deleted scenes!) to write once I finish with Some Sunny Day itself, so keep an eye on the series for those! Jheselbraum’s visit will probably be one such sequel, since it doesn’t quite fit into the final chapter I have planned but would feel like a waste not to expand upon.

[itsjustaphase-mom]

      Klaus frantically dug through his stuff. He shook out all his clothes, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor. He checked all his usual hiding spots: the stuffed unicorn, under the mattress, under the rug, between the bookshelf and the wall, under the loose floorboard, behind the loose panel in his wall, in his sock drawer.... Nothing. No drugs and no money. He ran his fingers through his hair as he took in the state of his room. He desperately scanned the scene for somewhere he could have forgotten to check. All his belongings were flung carelessly onto the floor, all his drawers flung open... there was not a hiding place in the room he hadn’t checked twice.

     He whimpered, turning around to face the door. He couldn’t go downstairs, dad would hear. If he got caught... He shook his head to clear it. Okay. Think. He could already feel the effects wearing off. There’s no way his siblings would give him money, they knew what he was going to spend it on. Besides, they were all asleep. “Nineteen bathrooms,” he muttered. “Of em’s gotta have some meds.” His was ruled out, of course. He hopped over the mess on his floor and rushed down the hall. He checked the first medicine cabinet he found. Nothing but toothpaste. He was careful to make as little noise as possible, but it was difficult with his shaking hands. He passed by Vanya’s room... Vanya’s room. Her anxiety meds. He peered into her room. She was asleep, the bottle on her bedside table. No. He couldn’t. He could never do that to her. He tore his eyes off his sleeping sister and looked back into the hallway. There was a man standing at the end of it. Fuck! Why was dad up here? 

     “Oh, I was just getting-uh, some water. I’m going back to bed now,” Klaus jerked a thumb behind him. The man at the end of the hallway staggered forwards. Why was he limping? “Whoa, dad. Are you okay?” he took a step forward, squinting in the darkness. The outline of the man’s bald head was illuminated by a streetlamp through the hall window. That’s not dad. Klaus staggered backwards in horror. 

     “The car,” The man croaked. “It hit me, just outside.”

     Without thinking, Klaus ran into Vanya’s room, twisted the lid off the container and dumped its contents into his mouth. He swallowed the pills. He dropped to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling his knees to his chest, hands tightly clamped over his ears. He waited for the drugs to kick in, breathing heavy. He rocked back and forth. I took Vanya’s meds. I took Vanya’s meds. I took Vanya’s meds. She needs those. What if she has a panic attack? It’s your fault. Dad’s gonna flip. He’s going lock you in that mausoleum as punishment. He’s going to take away all your drugs. It’s all your fault. He gasped for air. He couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes, staring into the empty hallway. His brain felt foggy, a familiar numbness that would have been calming in any other situation. He tried desperately to catch his breath, dragging his nails down his neck in an attempt to ground himself. 

     “Klaus?” Vanya said groggily. She snapped awake as soon as she saw the state he was in. She dropped to her knees beside her brother, who turned to face her with wide eyes. She held his shoulders to stop his rocking. “Breathe, breathe. Just relax, calm down. What’s wrong?” Klaus shook his head, closing his eyes tight.

     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over.

     “Look at me.” Vanya spoke over him. “Are you safe? Did you take something?” Klaus sobbed, pointing at the bottle he had dropped on the floor. Vanya breathed a sigh of relief. At least she knew it wasn’t dangerous. “It’s okay, you’re alright.” She could see he was still panicking. She pulled him into a hug. “Klaus, it’s alright. I can cope without them for 2 days. I’m not going to tell dad.” 

     “You’re not?” He whimpered.

     “Of course not.” She spoke in her most soothing voice. “I’ll be okay. And you’ll be okay. There were only two pills left, that’s not too high a dose.” He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him. She slowly pulled away to look him in the eyes. “We’re both going to be okay.” She smiled. “Okay?” Klaus nodded again, the tears still falling. Vanya got to her feet and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to bed.” Klaus took it, pulling himself up. He felt groggier, like his head was full of cotton. It was pretty mild compared to his usual stuff. Vanya kept a hold on his hand as she led him back to his bedroom. She finally let go when he sat on the edge of his bed. 

     “Should I go, or...?” Vanya seemed back to her usual self. It hurt Klaus to see her like that, so unsure. She was so good with speaking a minute ago.

     “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” He lied through his teeth as he wiped away his tears. He had finally stopped crying. Vanya paused.

     “Listen, I know you’re not fine and- well, I don’t want to push anything, and if you really want me to leave I will, but I don’t mind staying. If you want me to, I will.” She looked Klaus in the eyes. She had stopped looking people in the eyes long ago. Klaus looked down at his hands. He really did want her to stay, just until he fell asleep. He knew that no one would be here-he took those pills for a reason- but he still felt bad waking her up, stealing her medicine, and then making her stay up afterwards. He sighed.

     “I’m sorry.” He slowly met her gaze.

     “I already told you it’s okay. You have an addiction. It’s an illness, I can’t blame you.” She shrugged.

     “I-yeah, I suppose so.” he said softly. “Could you stay?” He blurted it out before he could think. “Please?” He added quietly.

     “Of course.” Vanya sat down beside him. Klaus shifted himself closer to the wall and draped his blanket over his legs.

     “Just until I fall asleep.”

     “I’ll stay here all night if you want me to.”

     “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

     “Why not? Sleeping here is no different than sleeping a few doors down.”

     “I don’t want to wake you up.” 

     Vanya smiled sympathetically at him.

     “You do. I know you have nightmares. I think we all do. I can hear you talking in your sleep from my room.”

     “Oh.” Klaus avoided her eyes. He didn’t know that she could hear him. Though, he supposed that was a bit naive; he could hear his siblings’ yelps whenever he stayed up on a drug trip. He’d just figured they had learned to ignore it by now. He thought they slept through it.

     “Go to sleep.” Vanya’s words brought him out of his thoughts. She tossed his blanket over him. He giggled. He pulled it off, revealing her grinning face. God, he hadn’t seen that grin in a while. Klaus hit her with his pillow. “Ow!” she hissed, laughing as hard as he was. “Shhh, we don’t want to wake Dad!”

     “You’re the one shrieking like a little girl.” Klaus smirked. Vanya narrowed her eyes. She grabbed the blanket, pouncing on him. She covered him in it and grabbed the pillow, using it to beat him mercilessly. “Hey! Stop it!” He cried. He struggled to free himself from the blanket, but Vanya was pinning it down with her knee. “What happened to ‘don’t wake up dad?’”

    “You started it.” Vanya dropped the pillow, sitting back and brushing her hair out of her face. Klaus finally got the blanket off himself. They burst into laughter as soon as they made eye contact.

     “Well how do you expect me to fall asleep now?”

     “Just...lie down.” He complied and she pulled the blanket over him. 

     “Well if you’re staying all night you’d better lie down too. Do you want your own blanket?”

     “Sure.”

     “There should be one by the foot of the bed.” He pointed to the floor. Vanya pushed herself off the bed and sure enough, there was another blanket crumpled on the floor. She grabbed it and sat back down, pulling it over herself. “Lie down” Klaus whined, drawing out the last syllable. Vanya rolled her eyes as she shifted herself down, propping herself up on one elbow.

     “Happy? Now go to sleep.”

     “Tell me a story?” Klaus smiled, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

     “Once upon a time there was a boy named Klaus who was dumb and made his sister stay up too late because he was being a dummy. He wouldn’t stop talking so she smothered him with a pillow. Finally, he rested. The end.”

     “Aw that was such a sweet tale. If I ever have kids, I’ll tell it to them every night.”

     “You’d better.” Vanya laughed.

     “I will. My husband will be so confused.” Husband. Vanya could hear her heart pounding out of her chest, her face blushing. He was gay. She knew he was gay. Everyone did. But he just brought it up so casually. How? She could never admit it that easily. She had never told anyone that she was...

     “Or wife, I suppose. I don’t know. Who knows.” He looked up at the ceiling, gesturing as he spoke. “I just find it so hard to choose. Because there’s guys. And have you seen guys? But there’s also girls. And it’s like... I’m supposed to pick one? You know what I mean?” He turned his head to look at her. 

     “Uh, yeah, I do. Yeah, I’m- I’m bi.”

     “Me too! Or pan. I’m just whatever.” Klaus beamed. Vanya smiled, somehow feeling relieved. She knew Klaus wouldn’t care, but coming out was so terrifying. 

     “Didn’t expect this little coming out party.” Klaus chuckled. He closed his eyes. His eyes flew open and he rolled onto his side. Vanya jumped. “Who was your first gay crush?” She could feel her face heating up again. 

     “Who was your first gay crush?” She deflected.

     “Casey Jones.” Klaus sighed dreamily. Vanya laughed.

      “Of course it was.”

     “And you?”

     “....Daphne.”

     “From Scooby-Doo!?” He gasped. “I love that. She’s amazing.” Vanya nodded. It was odd to talk about it. She was so used to ignoring it.

     “As much as I love this, we really do need to get some sleep.”

     “Boooo.” Klaus pouted. Vanya gave him a look. “Alright, alright. But you have to tell me about all of your crushes tomorrow.”

     “Only if you tell me yours.”

     “Gladly.” 

     Vanys rolled her eyes. She laid back, fixing the blanket about herself. Klaus curled up into a ball, pulling the blanket tight around himself.

     “Goodnight,” she said softly.

     “Night night.” He replied.

     And for the first night in a while, they both slept soundly.

[earth-ambassador-jim]

Changeling Loyalties: Chapter 4

Butterfly Wings

Toby is quite happy with his life, but then the Amulet of Daylight just had to choose his human friend. What’s a changeling to do? Good thing Toby never really liked Gunmar anyway.

Fanfiction - AO3

~~~~

~~~~

The walk back from Trollmarket was quiet. Toby and Jim had once again donned their disguises. Aaarrrgghh accompanied them, keeping a look out for Bular, who was fortunately nowhere to be seen. It gave Toby time to think over the events of the evening and make some plans.

Bular would now be watching for them, they would have to be more careful. It was also time for Toby to make sure the trolls stopped coming over to Jim and his houses. The longer they kept coming the more likely the goblins were to notice them, or vice versa. He wasn’t sure which would be worse…

They reached woods behind Jim’s house and Aaarrrgghh stopped.

“Hey big guy?”

Aaarrrgghh turned to look at him.

“I was wondering if we could maybe start meeting somewhere else? Or maybe we could have one of those horngazel thingies?”

“What for?” Jim asked, readjusting his werewolf mask.

“Well I was just thinking… that Bular guy?” It felt weird calling him that. “Well he was waiting for us outside Trollmarket. Maybe he can’t get in but what if he follows us home?”

“Being careful,” Aaarrrgghh said.

“I know, but can’t he track your scent?”

The large troll blinked, understanding dawning on his face.

“I was just thinking that Jim and I could go somewhere and put on our disguises there and then meet you. If you’re not with us Bular won’t be able to follow us home because we have the scent masking pendants.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed thoughtfully.

“Will ask. Where meet tomorrow?”

Toby glanced at Jim.

“How about at the library?” Jim suggested after a moment. “We can work on our homework there and no one will think it’s suspicious that we’re hanging about late. Do you know where the library is?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded, eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Yes. Blinky love library.”

~~~~

Toby waited until he was sure Jim was safely in his house before entering his own. He stared at it forlornly. He really wanted to just go to sleep, but he couldn’t have his house smelling like trolls.

He sighed, went to the cleaning closet, and began taking out the supplies. With one last longing glance toward his room he got to work.

After he’d scrubbed and mopped every inch of the house, he snuck out to the shed to stash his disguise and retrieve the lawn fertilizer. It would mask the troll scent out there. If the goblins’ smelled them in the woods they would hopefully assume then that the trolls had simply passed by.

He got his lawn done and then did Jim’s for good measure. If Blinky and Aaarrrgghh didn’t go with either of his suggestions they were going to have the greenest lawns in all of Arcadia.

The sun was already peeking over the horizon when he returned to the house to vacuum.

He finished that, emptied the bag into the outside trash and came back inside just in time to hear his alarm go off upstairs. Toby groaned and leaned his head up against the wall.

“This is so not awesome sauce…”

After a moment he removed himself, grudgingly resigned the fact that he would be running on zero sleep, and went over to the coffee maker.

~~~~

“Hey Tobes?” Jim asked hesitantly as they tied their bikes up outside the school.

“Hmmm?”

Toby took a sip of his… well coffee would probably not be quite accurate. It was really just caffeinated sludge.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Yes,” Toby lied, as he chewed on some grounds.

“Because if you didn’t you might want to…”

“Lake! You flipping buttsnack!”

Toby closed his eyes and counted to ten. Maybe it wasn’t too late to just go home…

“Where have you been?” Steve demanded, stalking toward them. “I scheduled your buttwhooping for yesterday, jerkface, and you didn’t show.”

He leaned into Jim’s space and Toby was immediately reminded of Draal.

“Tick-tok. Remember?”

Toby was way too tired to deal with this.

“I’ve been busy,” Jim said looking almost as tired as Toby.

“Well I guess it’s your lucky day,” Steve said. “Because I’ve rescheduled to now.”

“What?” Jim’s eyes widened. “Now?!”

“Of course. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

A crowd was starting to form around them. Eli, Mary Wang and some kid Toby didn’t recognize were already watching with anxious expressions. Darci Scott and Claire Nuñez rounded the corner and Claire held up an arm to stop her friend.

“Well? You ready?” Steve was getting more wound up with the attention.

“You know what?” Jim said, straightening up. “No. This is stupid.”

“What did you just say?” Steve sounded both shocked and incredibly slighted.

“I said this is stupid. There are hundred things more important than fanning your ego.”

Around them the crowd was whispering. Toby could relate. It seemed that taking on a couple trolls had really helped Jim get over his fear of Steve. To be fair Steve was kind of underwhelming after once one had met Bular.

Toby shook his head to clear out the cobwebs and moved to stand more squarely beside Jim.

“He’s right. This is stupid… Especially for you.”

Steve shot him a glare, but his attention remained on Jim.

“If you get caught fighting, you’ll get a mark on your record. Get enough of those and you can kiss your spot on the football team good-bye.”

Okay now he had the bully’s attention.

“Don’t flipping threaten me,” He snarled at Toby.

Jim tensed beside him, hands curling into fists.

“Then stop threatening us,” Toby responded easily.

He took a sip of his caffeine sludge and stared back at Steve, giving him the most vicious glare he could muster.

Steve paled, all the fight going out of his expression to be replaced with fear and confusion.

“What the… What the flip was that?!”

Jim and Toby exchanged a puzzled expression.

“What was what?”

“The thing you just…”

Steve took a step back and then straightened up, resuming his usual sneer. He would have looked intimidating, except that his gaze kept darting back to Toby every other second.

“You know what?” He said throwing his hands up. “You’re right. This is stupid. I have better things to do than deal with you buttsnacks.”

And with that he stalked off.

“Well that was weird,” Jim muttered.

The crowd broke into a cheer and everyone rushed forward. Toby couldn’t remember ever being this popular. It was kind of nice. He should tell off Steve more often.

Unfortunately their moment of glory was cut short by the bell.

As they turned to rush off toward class Toby noticed Claire was watching him.

~~~~

The first half of the school day passed quickly. Mr. Strickler’s class was the only one Toby was truly awake for. Nevertheless he was still thankful when the bell rang signaling the end of third period and the start of lunch.

“Hi Mr. Strickler.”

Jim’s voice started Toby out of his dazed state.

“Hello Jim,” Strickler said with an easy smile.

The smile flickered for a moment as he turned his gaze to Toby.

“My apologies for interrupting, but I need to borrow your friend for a moment.”

Suddenly Toby was very awake. It took all his self-control to keep a somewhat calm demeanor and paste on a smile.

Jim, unaware of the potential conflict brewing, nodded and started to turn away.

“Okay. I’ll go get us seats. See you, Tobes!”

He gave Toby a wave and disappeared down the hall, leaving him all alone.

“Follow me, Domzalski,” Strickler said sharply, dropping his façade now that they were alone.

Toby swallowed and obeyed, falling into step with the older changeling. They reached Stricklander’s office and Toby hesitated for a moment before following him in and closing the door.

Mr. Strickler took a seat behind his desk and indicated with his head for Toby to do the same.

“Soooo? What’s up?”

“I believe we’ve talked about the importance of not revealing your true nature to humans?”

Toby’s fear was abruptly replaced with confusion.

“…Yes?”

“Then why in Gunmar’s name would you go and flash your eyes at a teenager?”

“…I what now?” Clearly Toby needed another cup of coffee. He had probably fallen asleep and was dreaming this conversation. Nana would wake him any time now.

Mr. Strickler sighed and folded his hands in front of him.

“This morning,” He said pointedly. “I believe Mr. Palchuck was trying to start trouble with you and Mr. Lake. Apparently you flashed your eyes at him to make him back off.”

Toby blinked, slowly processing. Now that he thought about it that would explain Steve’s reaction.

“Oops?” He said giving Mr. Strickler a nervous smile. “I swear it was an accident?”

Mr. Strickler sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I suspected that was the case,” He frowned and stood up from his chair. “That being said, I can’t have changelings carelessly exposing us to humans because they can’t keep their wits about them when a bullheaded adolescent tries to goad them into a fight. You are lucky that Steve was the only one to see. It was a small enough thing that he will likely write it off as a figment of his imagination and we won’t have to do anything.”

“Sorry, sir,” Toby said, also standing up.

“Sorry isn’t enough, you must learn from your mistakes.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“I’m glad, but just to make sure, you will be on call for cleanup for the rest of the month. Starting now. Hopefully that shall drive home the importance of secrecy.”

That was going to make things complicated.

“But …”

“Do you have a problem with my decision, Mr. Domzalski?” Strickler asked in a pointed tone.

Toby quickly straightened to attention.

“Of course not. No sir, Mr. Strickler, sir!” He added in a salute for good measure.

Mr. Strickler rolled his eyes.

“Good,” he said, settling back down into his desk. “You are dismissed.”

Toby waited until he was out in the hall and well away from Mr. Strickler’s office to heave a sigh of relief. He decided to drop by the bathroom before joining Jim; he needed some time to calm down and stop shaking.

He had honestly thought that Stricklander knew. That he was going to try to force him to spy on Jim for the Janus Order.

A month on call for clean-up still wasn’t good, though. There was no way something wouldn’t happen in that amount of time. Toby needed to start planning excuses so the trolls wouldn’t get suspicious if he missed training at Trollmarket or had to leave abruptly.  

He groaned and started digging around in his backpack for a Nougat Nummy to soothe his nerves. Things just kept getting more and more complicated.

Hopefully Mr. Strickler was right and Steve would just forget about the whole thing instead of adding to the mess.

~~~~                 

Jim made it through all of his homework before it got dark. He glanced at the window and leaned back in his chair to stretch. To his right Toby was sprawled out across the table snoring away, a little line of drool seeping out of his mouth. Jim probably should have woken him up hours ago so he could get his homework done, but given how tired his friend was he felt it was better to let him rest. That and Jim felt rather guilty that it was really his fault that Toby wasn’t getting enough sleep.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh would arrive pretty soon… or would it be just Aaarrrgghh tonight?

He glanced outside again. It was dark. Time to wake Toby.

He tried calling his name but had no success. Jim glanced around until he located a piece of scrap paper. He grabbed it and backed up until there was about a table’s length of space between him and Toby. His friend had been on edge with all the craziness going on so better safe than sorry. He wadded the paper into a ball and aimed it at Toby’s shoulder.

His little league experience had stuck with him and he hit his target on the first shot. As soon as the wad of paper made contact Toby burst out of the chair with yelp, swinging his fist in the direction of the disturbance. Encountering only air, he twisted around eyes darting rapidly until they landed on Jim.

Jim gave a little wave.

“Hey Tobes,” He said keeping his voice soft. “It’s dark out. Time to go.”

Toby blinked a few times, his expression relaxing for a moment before his brows furrowed.

“Wait… How long have I been sleeping?”

Jim moved to stand beside him.

“About three hours…”

“Three hours!” Toby squawked, before wincing when several people turned to glare at him.

“Three hours?!” He repeated more quietly, giving Jim a slight glare. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Mr. Strickler’s not going to be happy if I turn in my essay late.”

Jim wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t worried about his other classes. Maybe his grade was down and that was why their history teacher called him to his office earlier.

“Sorry,” Jim said, holding his hands up. “I was just worried because you’ve looked so tired all day.”

Jim frowned.

“You could stay home tonight if you…”

“No!” Toby said quickly, tensing. “Not happening.”

“Okay,” Jim said.

He really should have argued some more. Jim was the one the amulet had chosen, Toby didn’t need to be missing sleep for him but… but he was really glad Toby had decided to come with him. He felt safer with his friend beside him. He knew he was being selfish, but somehow he just couldn’t really make himself do anything about it… Besides… Toby was happier knowing what was going on anyway so it wasn’t like he was forcing his friend or anything.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Jim tossed Toby the bag with his cloak in it and they left the library to look for a place to put on their disguises.

~~~~

The first thing Blinky did when Toby and Jim arrived at Hero’s Forge was to lead Toby to an alcove he hadn’t noticed before.

“If you are to be joining Master Jim in his training, you must have a proper weapon.”

Toby felt a grin slowly forming on his face. His fingers twitched as his gaze darted over the weapons before him. He’d never had access to such a selection.

There were axes and swords and spears… and a wrench? He wasn’t sure what to make of that one... But Toby’s gaze was immediately drawn to the large hammer resting on the floor. It had a long pole with an orange crystal head. Reminded of his own warhammer, Toby immediately grabbed it. Unfortunately, after struggling to lift it, he was forced to acknowledge that it was too heavy for him to wield in his current form. Not effectively anyway.

He staggered back to the weapons rack and dropped it with a resounding thud.

After a moment of contemplation he picked out a small double headed battle ax. Toby checked the head and, finding it to be in good condition, gave it an experimental swing. He grinned. The balance was right.

“I’ll take this one,” Toby said, turning back to Blinky.

He found himself face to face with Aaarrrgghh instead. Toby let out a yelp and stumbled backward, nearly dropping the ax.

“Sorry,” Aaarrrgghh said. “Blinky with Jim.”

Toby looked where the Krubera was pointing. Sure enough, Jim was standing in the center of the arena with Daylight drawn. Blinky appeared to be correcting his posture. Toby hefted the ax over his shoulder and began walking, Aaarrrgghh moved to follow. Toby tensed then shifted to the side and slowed his pace slightly so the large troll was beside him instead.

Aaarrrgghh glanced at him, ears drooping slightly.

“Sorry.”

Toby looked at him in surprise before realizing that how he had likely interpreted Toby’s actions.

“No, no!” He said with a slightly awkward laugh. “You didn’t do anything… It’s just that…” Come on, Toby think up a good lie. “It’s just when I was little there were a lot of bullies and…”

“Bull lies?”

“Bullies… Um… Mean people,” Toby clarified. Aaarrrgghh made a sound of understanding. “They used to play nasty jokes on me, so I get a little jumpy about having people behind me sometimes.” Not completely a lie. He just hadn’t specified that it only applied to trolls and other changelings… and Steve. The jerk had tried to give him a wedgie a few times. After he had gotten his payback that hadn’t happened again but he still didn’t trust the boy.

“Oh,” Aaarrrgghh said. He frowned slightly, then tilted his head up slightly giving Toby a sincere look. “Won’t do that. Toby friend.”

Toby stopped, caught off guard by his gesture and words. He blinked quickly.

“Th-Thank-you.”

“Welcome,” Aaarrrgghh said and smiled at him.

“Tobias!” Blinky called. “It’s time for the first lesson.”

Toby and Aaarrrgghh hurried over. Blinky turned to look at them and nodded.

“You have chosen battle ax, I see. A respectable choice in weaponry, though I fear I shall have to instruct you on its use separate from Jim as swords require very different training,” He clapped his hands together. “Fortunately our first lesson will carry you through the perilous world of Trollhunting regardless of your weapon.”

He straightened up and half his eyes focused on Jim and half on Toby.

“It is time that you learn the Three Rules of Trollhunting.”

~~~~

~~~~

Subplot is a go! This should be fun.

[dyotxt]

“can’t wait”

fandom: tokyo ghoul

pairing: hidekane/kanehide

word count: 1938 (ongoing)

summary: When Kaneki Ken and Hideyoshi Nagachika wake up as each other one day, they hadn't expected it to be a real and regular occurrence rather than just a dream. The ties of fate have connected them but they still have yet to unravel many hidden truths. As Kaneki & Hide spend time getting to live each other's respective lives, they start to form a deep bond that they can't really comprehend but appreciate all the same.

(a kimi no na wa/your name au)

[read on ao3] or beneath the cut

a lil note before reading: to give some context, kaneki and hide never met when they were children. also, hide lives in a more rural part of japan, while kaneki still resides in tokyo in order to keep some aspects of the movie. i hope you enjoy reading this! :)

Even being teased by the 5th dimension, I’ll still look your way

So let’s choose a secret sign for when we introduce ourselves again

‘Cause I’m heading out right now to chase after your name!

- Dream Lanterns, Radwimps

act i

As soon as Kaneki wakes up, he feels that something is very off.

First of all, he’s not in his bedroom. He takes in the sight of a very messy apartment room, with a backpack thrown carelessly, books scattered, and a pile of clothes in one corner gathering dust. The walls are covered by posters, ranging from bands that Kaneki has never heard of before, to pictures of cryptids. His eyes land on a jarring and bright pair of headphones that sit on the nightstand. The bedroom looks well lived in, despite the mess.

What, Kaneki thinks in pure, utter, confusion, as he stares at the poster of Nessie .

Did he fall asleep somewhere after coming back from hunting last night? Did someone capture him and took him here? Is this some sort of CCG tactic? Did the CCG get to him finally?

A phone alarm rings somewhere in the bed, and Kaneki is ashamed of the high pitched yelp that he lets out in surprise. He pulls off the blue plaid blanket off of him to search for the phone ringing in a frantic way, desperate to get some answers.

He finally finds the phone, and presses the pad of his finger to the screen to shut off the alarm that says “SCHOOL!!!” in all capital letters. Ok, well, if Kaneki wasn’t confused at first, he sure as hell is now. He hasn’t gone to school ever since the whole ghoul incident happened that one date night.

“Maybe it’s a dream,” he thinks out loud to himself and is surprised by the voice that comes out. A voice that isn’t his own. Its airy, a bit deeper, and louder than his. He looks at the home screen of the smartphone, and looks at the date:

October 14th

He musters up the courage to stand up, and wanders around the apartment to find a bathroom. When he finally does, Kaneki flips on the light switch and is met with the face of a male who looks around his age; blonde locks with brown roots growing out are a mess from the bedhead he sports, and startled brown eyes are looking right at him. He touches his face, and gasps when the mirror reflects the image.

“This is a super realistic dream,” Kaneki tells himself.

Hide jolts out of bed when his phone alarm rings, and he falls onto the bedroom floor trying to reach for his iPhone on the hardwood surface.

“Ow!” He yelps out in pain as his back hits the ground, but at least that shuts off the alarm blaring. After a few moments of the urban life of the city, Matsue, filtering the quiet atmosphere of the apartment, Hide sits up taking in his surroundings.

“That was one super realistic dream I had,” Hide laughs, recalling how dreamt that he woke up in a completely different body. He gets up from the floor, and puts his blanket back on the bed. He turns on his phone and checks the date, and he frowns in confusion.

October 16th

The number stands out to him. It was only the 14th when Hide had gone to bed after staying at his university’s library to study for an English exam coming up in a few days. “It must be the stress,” Hide waves off his bafflement. Pushing the weird dream he had into a corner in his mind, he heads outside his bedroom to get ready for the day.

As Hide’s quickly walking to class to make it on time, he passes by Kimi in the courtyard, his friend’s (although Nishiki wouldn’t necessarily agree) girlfriend. She stops him when she says good morning and makes small chat with him.

“Do you remember the first class you have today?” she asks good naturedly.

“Yeah, I have Japanese Literature,” Hide gives a smile, but his face morphs into one of confusion quickly, “Why?”

Kimi looks at him in surprise but she explains, “Yesterday you stormed into the building, a few minutes late, and you asked me what class you had. You kept asking for the whole day as well. Nishiki was even getting concerned, though don’t tell him I said that,” she trails off when she sees Hide become increasingly more confused. “Do you not remember?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing a little in concern.

“I…” Hide starts, trying to come up with a clear answer, “Ah! No! I do remember. Sorry, it’s the stress getting to me, haha. Y’know how college life is! It makes people go crazy,” he lies and rambles on with a smile to clear away the mood previously. Kimi looks at him, expression unreadable, but she smiles nevertheless, “Ok, Hide, you better take care of yourself.”

Hide grins, “I will. Thanks, Kimi,” he says before exchanging goodbyes to go to their classes. Hide waves at her as he walks into the building. He’s going to have to run up two flights of stairs if he’s going to make it in time. God, he hopes he doesn’t throw up the sweet bread he had for breakfast on the way.

“Oi, Nagachika.”

Hide looks up from his phone when he hears his name being called out. He’s in the courtyard of the Shimane University, sitting on a bench and snacking on an onigiri with a tuna filling he bought at the student cafeteria, waiting for his next class to start. He sees Nishiki coming his way with Kimi besides him.

“Nishiki! Hey, what’s up?” Hide says in greeting.

Nishiki shares a look with Kimi before turning back to Hide, “I see you’re back to normal.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told lots already. Can you explain?” Hide asks, wiping his mouth free from any grains of rice that stuck to his lips.

“What? You don’t remember?” Nishiki squints his eyes at him and gives him a sigh akin to ‘you’re hopeless’ but continue nonetheless. “You were totally out of it yesterday. You didn’t know where any of your classes were, and you didn’t talk to anyone. You usually talk more than what's needed,” Nishiki responds.

Kimi adds on, “We even went to a cafe after school and you didn’t order anything. You usually order a lot. It was a bit weird.”

“You even made us go to a bookstore because you wanted to. Which is weird, because you never read,” Nishiki said. Hide raises a hand to his chest in mock offense, “I do read!”

Nishiki rolls his eyes, “You only read manga.” Hide laughs at that, even Kimi chuckles. Kimi adds one last comment, “I’m glad you’re acting like your usual self again, though.”

Hide nods; albeit he doesn’t know what’s going on, he responds as he scratches his cheek, “It’s just the stress of being a poor, English major.”

He’s met with the sound of murmured talking from the floor below him, along with the distinct smell of a coffee shop again when Hide wakes up. This dream again, Hide thinks. He sits up, but yelps out in pain when there’s a sting in his abdomen. He lifts up the black shirt, and he sees a wound healing on the left. He hisses at the sight of it; it’s certainly more ugly looking than how it feels.

“Kaneki! Wake up! Your shift starts soon!” There’s a knock at the door with a female voice accompanying it. She doesn’t sound happy, Hide notes. “Coming!” he answers back. He has yet to get used to the naturally quiet voice whoever this dream person has. Hide gets up, and he pays extra attention to the wound.

Whoever this dream Kaneki person is, Hide thinks as he looks around for the work uniform, he sure does like picking fights. Weird, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks, he laments.

When he’s done putting on the barista outfit, he looks at himself in the mirror and fixes the straight, black hair to make it look presentable. He finds that this dream person’s hair doesn’t stick up at all angles, disappointing Hide a little.

Once he’s satisfied with the way he looks, he heads outside the room and into the first floor, where the café is located. A cup of coffee is put into hands, and he looks up to see the cute waiter, who goes by the name of Touka, hand him a cup.

“Here, it’s going to be a long day,” she says.

Usually, Hide wouldn’t drink coffee, nevertheless, pure black coffee, but he finds that this dream Kaneki likes it.

“Thanks,” Hide responds with a smile. Touka nods before she heads over to attend some customers that are starting to pour in. Hide nurses the cup of coffee before gulping it down in one sip; the liquid burns his throat just the slightest, but the pain quickly subsides, and leaves no trace of that burn you get after drinking something hot.

Weird, he thinks. His curious thoughts are quickly interrupted by one of the other waiters, Irimi, to whip up some orders. Hide is completely lost at all the names of the drinks she’s telling him, but he nods despite his confusion.

Later on that day, Hide decides to write down the events that had happened throughout the day on a diary app he downloaded on dream Kaneki’s phone. He retells how Irimi had to teach him to do most drinks on the menu, and how Touka had yelled at him for being so absent minded. He’ll have to get used to this whole dream barista work because it feels oddly real. He leaves cute emojis as he types away, and puts the date at the bottom, along with his own name.

i’ll make sure to do a double shot espresso just fine next time!

                                                                                   - hide nagachika 10/20

Hide is in his own body the next time he wakes up; he’s met with the familiar sound of the urban bustle of the city and his alarm ringing. He quiets his phone, and gets up to start a new day.

Something catches his eye on his study desk, though. His English journal is left open, which he doesn’t remember doing. But, then again, how much has he been remembering clearly these past few days? He still goes over to it, curious about the writing on it.

Handwriting that isn’t his is scrawled over the lined paper in neat and precise characters, spelling out:

Hideyoshi Nagachika? Who are you?

The next time Kaneki wakes up in his own body, he finds a yellow sticky note plastered onto his phone in not the most neatest writing, but legible enough.

This is real, huh?

Kaneki’s heart stops.

Hide wakes up to find a sticky note plastered onto his bathroom mirror with the same neat handwriting, and he’s sure that he’s about the faint when he finds the words:

This is real.

It’s not a dream, this hasn’t been a dream this whole time, Kaneki thinks as he stares at the sudden increase of manga on his shelf, along with addition of cryptid posters appearing in his bedroom in Anteiku. Those days I’ve spent in Hideyoshi Nagachika’s body are real.

It’s not a dream! Hide screams to himself in his mind when he wakes up to see the influx of old Japanese literature classics on his desk, and his bedroom tidier, those days I’ve spent in Kaneki Ken’s body are real!

end note: sooo. i actually started writing this in december 2016. i wrote it over the course of 2017, i think i finished it around early summer and just kept looking back at it. i was really hesitant to post it so its been sitting in my google drive for a loooong time. it wasn't until this month that i changed some things and felt satisfied enough to post it. that being said, the story is completed. it's about 42 pages and 16,400+ words making it the longest fic i've ever written. i want to upload it in parts since i feel like posting the whole complete thing would be kinda tiring to look at. though, i'll be updating it frequently, probably every day until the 7 chapters are all posted.

anyways! yea i really love hidekane (even tho the fandom was quieted down for the past years) so i had to write an au for them! kimi no na wa is such a nice movie and makes me cryyyyy every time i see it. also, i really love the idea of nishiki and kimi being close friends with hide, so i incorporated the idea here. and yea, nishiki's still a ghoul. things will start to kick up next few chapters, since this is just the beginning.i hoped you liked it!  feel free to send me a message on here! thanks!

[lovingdicaprio-blog]

Loving DiCaprio - Chapter Two

---

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

My mother’s words warmed my heart, bringing tears to my eyes. “I’ve missed you too, mom.” I swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to cry. I succeeded, the hours spent prepping my face good enough of a reason to keep the tears from spilling. “I was supposed to call you last night but I got home late.”

“You went out?”

“Not exactly,” I was vague in my response, choosing to leave out the fact that I was with my father. “How are you?”

“It’s been a slow day, I’m glad you called.”

It was peaceful inside the car, a stark contrast to the chaos that was New York traffic outside my window. I focused on the sound of my mother’s voice, her tone had a soporific effect on me and distracted me from the cars rushing past my car.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted.

“Oh, sweetheart…” I didn’t mean to cause worry for my mother. I had an image of my panicked mother in my head. Diane Humphrey panicked a lot, and constantly fretted about me and my well-being. “Talk to me. Do you want me to fly to New York?”

Yes. “No, I’ll be alright.” I lied, struggling to keep my voice at bay. My heart was hitting hard against my ribcage and my palms sweated. I shifted on the hard leather seats of the sedan, wishing they were more comfortable. “It’s just first day jitters, is all.”

“Where are you?”

“Inside a taxicab,” I told another unnecessary lie to my mother.

I had found the black luxury sedan parked outside my building, with it a short text from my father wishing me luck for my first day at work. The car came with a driver, Paulo, who I was told was at my disposal for the remainder of my time in the city. I was touched by my father’s thoughtful gesture, and though my better judgment told me to deny his offer, I knew it would only further the rift between us.

New York was my opportunity at a fresh start and a chance for me to mend my broken relationship with my father. I trusted my mother would understand and accept my reasoning and was waiting for the right moment to tell her everything.

“Breathe, Jessamine,” she commanded.

I did as I was told, inhaling deeply before releasing a shaky breath. Once, twice, three times and felt me calming. My mother promised to keep me company for the remainder of the drive to work, passing time by entertaining me with stories from back home. The sounds of laughter soon filled the car and line, my eyes tearing.

“Sweetheart, you should’ve seen him,” she said between her laughs.

“I love you, mom.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

I smiled. For the first time since my arrival in New York, I felt at peace.

—

I spun through the revolving doors of Akeley & Burke with my head held high, entering the spacious and empty lobby of the building. My previous fears had been replaced with confidence, thanks to my phone call with my mother, and I felt I could tackle whatever obstacle life threw at me. I walked towards the security turnstiles, digging into my bag for my identity card, and swiftly passed through and towards the elevator.

“Good weekend?”

I jumped, dropping my bag onto the lobby floor. I froze, my body rigid with fear. I struggled to breathe, my air passages closing, and I felt lightheaded.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I looked down at the spilled contents of my handbag, kneeling to pick my possessions up off of the white marble floors. Two male hands helped me, handing me the last of my belongings before we both rose to our feet. I flushed with embarrassment, unsure of how to explain my seemingly irrational fear.

“Are you okay?”

I was unable to find my voice, terror making it hard to speak. My eyes scanned the lobby, searching for a face I knew I wouldn’t find. You’re safe. “I was so lost in thought,” I explained when I finally found my voice. My body relaxed and I was able to walk once again.

“I’m sorry for just popping up.”

“It’s fine, really.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Hi.”

The male searched my face, his expression unreadable. “Hi…”

I called for a car and stared ahead at the steel elevator doors.

“I’m Elliot,” he continued.

His voice broke my train of thought. He seemed friendly, and his demeanor revealed that he wasn’t a threat. His blonde hair was pushed away from his face giving me a full view of his face. He had blue eyes, plump lips and a jawline that could cut through steel.

“I’m Jessa.” The car arrived, and we both entered. “Pleased to meet you, Elliot.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

He selected his floor and asked for mine. “The tenth.”

“You’re new, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” I leaned my full weight on the rails.

“No, I just know everyone who works here.”

I laughed, all traces of fear fading, though my knees remained weak. “Oh, really now?”

“I’m an accountant.”

“I’m an assistant.”

“Welcome to Akeley & Burke, assistant.”

The car stopped at the tenth floor, and I stepped out, bidding Elliot goodbye. I was buzzed through the reception by Simone. She sat at her crescent-shaped desk and smiled as I approached her desk. I admired how her burgundy dress complimented her cafe au lait skin and matched perfectly with her lipstick. Her straight black hair fell down her back.

“Lydia’s already inside her office.”

I looked at my wristwatch for the time. I had arrived on time with 15 minutes to spare. “Isn’t it early?”

“I think she’s been here all night.” Simone picked a small piece of paper off her desk with a message messily scribbled on. “She asked me to give this,” she handed me the paper, “to you.”

Come to my office, L. I glanced back up at Simone. “Thank you.”

“You know where her office is, right?”

“Yes.” I started walking. “Enjoy the rest of your day,” I called from over my shoulder.

I took a right turn, walking down a hallway, passing my cubicle, and towards the end of the hall. I stopped right in front of Lydia’s closed door and wasted no time knocking. Lydia’s voiced called for me to enter. I pushed the door open and almost tripped over a styrofoam cup that was carelessly strewn on the office floor, the first of many. I walked further into the office, appalled by the mess. Torn scraps of paper littered the floor, a trash can lay on its side in the far corner of the room and sweet wrappers peppered the mahogany desk.

“Ms. Collins?”

Lydia Collin’s head appeared from behind her large mahogany desk. She was in clear need of sleep and had aged a great deal since our last counter. Her wild copper hair was contained under a black headband, and green eyes encircled by dark rings from too much caffeine. She was a downright mess, and I wondered what reason she had for her unkempt appearance.

“Ms. Collins.”

“Call me, Lydia. I insist,” she lips split into a friendly smile.

My eyes scanned the room, and I resisted the urge to grab a broom and plastic bag. I stood awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of where to place myself in the chaos.

“It’s bad, I know.”

I looked up at my boss and smiled sheepishly, red-faced at the fact that I’d been caught out.

“It’s usually clean,” she continued, resting an elbow on her desk. She looked around her, her facial features twisting. “Wow… it’s really messy in here.”

“What happened?”

She huffed and that was a good enough answer for me. Lydia gestured for me to sit in the chair across from hers. “Please, sit down.”

I did as I was told, placing my bags on the floor beside me. I surveyed the documents scattered across her desk, the name ‘Appian Way’ showing up on most of the documents. I was curious, and couldn’t help but ask, “Are you working with Appian Way?”

“Good, you’ve heard of them then?”

“Vaguely,” I recalled the dinner at Daniel with founder and CEO. “I don’t know a lot about them though.”

“Did you know that they make environmentally friendly cars?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Whilst looking up Mr. DiCaprio, matters of his business sparked no interest in me. My focus was on his personal life, and the internet provided me with enough information on that to last me a lifetime.

“Here,” she handed me a tablet. “That’s their latest creation in environmental cars.”

I looked down at the screen and was impressed. A sleek and very expensive looking silver car was on the screen. It was parked in the middle of a deserted road against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers. It was a powerful vehicle and commanded respect.

“Spectacular.”

“It’s grand, the safest vehicle in the world. Expensive too,” she added as an afterthought. “My job is to convince them that I’m the right person to help them sell the car to people.”

“When is the pitch?”

Lydia hauled herself to her feet and sat in her chair. “Today. I got the call late last night.”

I was aware of my shocked expression as I handed her back her the device. “You were headhunted?”

“It’s great, right?” she beamed, looking her age for the first time. “If I get this campaign, it could do wonders for my career.”

“What time is the pitch?”

“Four o’clock.” Her frown returned, deeper than before. “And I’ve still got so much work to do…”

“Can I get you more caffeine? Maybe clean up the office…?”

She smiled appreciatively. “Yes, please.”

I set out to the tea room, making the perfect cup of coffee for my boss. When I returned to her office, she had been joined by two creative who would be present during the pitch - I made coffee for them too. With all three caffeinated, I set out on my next task which was to clean the space. I was careful not to be disruptive, listening and offering my opinion where I felt fitting.

Two hours into the brainstorming session, I went on a sandwich and coffee run. They were grateful and worked all the way through lunchtime.

“Jessa?”

I looked up from my tablet screen. I was sat in a corner of the room, jotting notes when asked. “Yes?”

“Did you jot that down?” Lydia looked as though she would pass out at any minute.

I nodded. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I think I might…” she yawned loudly, not bothered to cover her mouth. She excused the two creatives from her office, allowing her head to drop onto her desk the second the door shut. “I can no longer go on.”

“Don’t you think you should head home?”

“I just need a little more caffeine… something stronger,” she yawned again.

“The caffeine will kill you.”

“If I leave, what will happen with the pitch?”

“You don’t want to be falling in and out of consciousness during the meeting,” I countered. “Going home to rest is your best option.”

“You make a valid point.”

“Should I call an uber?”

“No, my girlfriend.” She gestured at her smartphone which rested on the desk beside her. “Press one and hold.”

—

With Lydia out the office, I was left to my devices. Simone had invited me out to lunch with our other colleagues and I gladly accepted the offer, seeing it as an opportunity for me to make new friends in the city. It was at an Italian restaurant 10 minutes from Akeley & Burke and they served the best Carbonara I had ever tasted.

I dropped my bag at my desk, grabbed a cup of coffee and returned to my cubicle to perform a more thorough search on Mr. DiCaprio, the man behind the multi-billion dollar company that was Appian Way.

I didn’t get much from the company’s Wikipedia so I expanded my search, the deeper I searched, the more I found. I was impressed with his extensive portfolio. Appian Way, a multinational corporation, was founded by Leonardo DiCaprio when he was only 19 years old.

“Having fun?”

I jumped when my boss appeared beside me. “You’re back.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you…”

I smiled sheepishly as I pushed off my chair, feeling silly for my unwarranted fear. He won’t find you, he can’t. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much. Come to my office,” she began to walk in the direction of her office, “and bring your tablet with you.”

Lydia and I worked through the afternoon preparing for the four o’clock meeting and were later joined by the two creatives who had been present in the morning. The last minute prep seemed to boost Lydia’s confidence, and calm her nerves. At three o’clock, Lydia picked up her jacket, a broad smile on her face as she shrugged it on.

“Are you ready?”

My face twisted in confusion. “For?”

“The pitch,” she said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You have to come with, you worked hard helping me prep.”

I couldn’t deny my boss’s offer. I pushed to my feet and straightened the material of my dress. “Absolutely, let me grab my purse.”

—

From the backseat, I watched as the Appian Way building came into view. The structure was so tall, it passed the clouds in the sky. Our car parked at the curb in front of the building and I began to feel anxious, intimidated by the manmade wonder that was the Appian Way.

“How are you feeling?”

“Positive,” I turned to my boss who sat beside me. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just might pass out.”

I smiled, stepping out of the car and onto the pavement. I looked up at the sapphire building and swallowed hard. We walked through the revolving doors, entering the vast stupendous lobby. Like Akeley & Burke, the Appian Way lobby was tiled with marble. We stopped at a security table and were handed visitor security cards and directed to the elevators.

“115 levels,” said one of the creatives in disbelief as we were whisked up to the last level of the building.

We were buzzed in, passing through the door of the security glass door at the entrance. We were asked to wait a moment and taken to a seating area of the reception. We were offered water or coffee, an offer we all declined, our nerves getting the better of us. The two-minute wait was excruciating, and I was relieved when the blonde who’d welcomed us asked for us to follow her into the conference room.

“Good luck.” My statement was directed to both my boss and the creatives.

When the door was opened, Lydia walked in first followed by the creatives. I was the last in the room and made quite an entrance. Not minding my step, I tripped and landed on both my hands and knees. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

A hand was extended to me and I reluctantly grabbed it, a fire igniting inside me at the contact. I was hauled onto my feet, and to balance myself, I placed my hand on a hard chest.

“So we meet again, Jessa,” murmured a familiar voice, loud enough only for me to hear.

I pushed off his chest like it was on fire and flinched at the loss of contact. “I’m sorry about that,” I flushed, the embarrassment and lust making me dizzy.

“I won’t be forgetting that entrance any time soon.”

“Mr. DiCaprio,” Lydia’s voice brought me back to reality, reminding me of the presence of the five other people in the room. “Meet my assistant, Jessa Williamson.”

Leonardo’s eyes stayed fixed on me, despite my boss addressing him. “We’ve met.”

Lydia’s eyes shot to me, searching for answers but all I could give was a shrug. My breathing was shallow, and there was a loud ringing in my ear. Breathe. I inhaled through my nose, letting the air pass through my slightly parted lips. Leonardo placed his hand on my back and led me to the table, and despite the clothes separating us, my skin was set alit. He pulled a chair out for me, and subtly commanded for me to sit.

I did as I was told without protest. Mr. DiCaprio took his seat beside me, gaining questioning glances from those around the room. No one dared question him. Lydia began to speak, and I was impressed watching her. She had them eating out of her hands, and didn’t seem intimidated by Mr. DiCaprio’s questions. She answered each thoroughly and with ease, the confidence emitting off her. Lydia Collins remained calm despite the immense pressure, I admired that.

“What do you think, Jessa?”

Leonardo was addressing me, his chair turned towards me. His gaze was intense, his entire focus on me. I shifted in my seat, looking at my boss to avoid his stare. “Of?”

“Which concept did you like best?”

I reverted my eyes back to the man sat opposite me, admiring his looks. I drank him in, he radiated sensuality and it wildly turned me on. “The last was pretty impressive, but they were all great.”

Leonardo stood, holding his hand out to me. My better judgment told me to reject his offer, but my body betrayed me by clutching onto the hand, yearning for the sensation his touch brought unto me.

“I agree with Ms. Williamson,” he spoke, his hand not releasing mine. I wondered if he felt the same charge that passed through us. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Collins.”

I turned to Lydia who looked both perplexed and thrilled. “Thank you, Mr. DiCaprio. My team and I won’t let you down.”

—

“Lydia Collin’s office, Jessa Williamson speaking,” I formally greeted.

“Jessa.”

I was surprised to hear my father’s voice on the other end of the line. “Richard, is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine.” He seemed anxious and unsure of himself. “I didn’t think you’d still be at the office.”

“I was replying to a couple of emails.” The lie passed through my lips with ease, and I felt guilty.

I’d been lying more often than I should’ve been. The truth was that I didn’t feel like being cooped up in my expensive apartment alone.

“How was the first day on the job? Maybe you can tell me all about it at dinner tonight.” His statement was phrased as a question. “Vanessa is still out of town…”

I stayed silent, thrown by his proposal.

“I understand if you’ve made other plans.”

“Of course not,” the words rushed out my mouth. “Dinner tonight sounds great.”

A sigh of relief sounded, giving my father away. He was nervous to ask. “Really?” he couldn’t hide the shock in his tone.

“Yes, really.”

“I’m 10 minutes away from Akeley & Burke…”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

I hung up and killed the power of my computer. I began packing my bags when I became aware of another presence in the room. My initial fears subsided when I reminded myself of the fact that Akeley & Burke was a highly secured building, and no one unwanted could get through. Not unnoticed anyway. It was a little after seven in the evening, and most people had vacated the premises so it was quiet on my floor.

“Dinner plans?”

I had heard the voice enough to immediately recognize as Leonardo DiCaprio’s. His voice was smooth, and perfect for the bedroom. “Mr. DiCaprio.”

“It’s after working hours, Jessa, you can call me by my first name.”

I remained straight-faced, giving nothing away. “Mr. DiCaprio.”

The corners of his lips curved into a smirk. “Feisty, I like it.”

I pushed off my chair, steeling myself though my knees were on the verge of buckling. “I was just leaving,” I pushed past Leonardo, swiftly making my way to the elevator, conscious of his footsteps following behind mine.

“Where are you rushing off to?” He called after me.

“Dinner with my father,” my pace didn’t slow until I reached the elevator.

It had been a long and exhausting day, draining both physically and mentally. I looked forward to the moment I stepped past the threshold of my apartment and collapsed onto my bed. A confrontation with a man who left me feeling needy, craving his touch, was the last thing I wanted.

“You’re running from me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, DiCaprio,” my manners were a thing of the past, irritation igniting in me. “I’m meeting my father for dinner.”

A car arrived and I stepped inside, my irritation intensifying when Leonardo followed me. I made an attempt to exit the car but he caught me by the elbow and tugged me back into the car.

“Let go,” I bit out.

He released me, and when I turned to escape the doors had closed. I made an exasperated sound which amused Leonardo. I put distance between us, leaning against the elevator wall and closing my eyes. Though I couldn’t see, I felt his eyes on me.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“What is the matter?”

“You,” I replied bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you.”

My eyes shot open, and dryly I responded, “Ha-ha, very funny.”

His face remained passive. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“I don’t have time for this,” I murmured.

“Tell me, are you sleeping with anyone?”

Irritation turned to fury, and I balled my fists at my side. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question, Jessa.”

“My personal life has nothing to do with you!”

“I want to know who’s standing in my way.” He stated simply, adding a shrug towards the end.

��I’m not interested.”

There was a ghost of a smile. “We both want each other…”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of women who’d jump at the opportunity to get into bed with you.”

“I’m not interested in other women.”

I was relieved when the elevators opened. “Goodbye, Mr. DiCaprio.”

“We’re not done, Jessa.” He stood in front of me, blocking the way. “So? What do you say?”

“Fuck you,” I spat, pushing past him and dashing out into the lobby, running past security and out onto the sidewalk.

“Jessa?”

I smiled at the sight of my father and gladly stepped into the open door of his Rolls Royce.

“How was the first day?”

I huffed, breathless. “It’s been a long day, Richard…”