#now i gotta start saving for one that will not be a fire risk. hopefully

[camuscomprix]

My sad little car is being euthanized this week, she served me well for 1 year and died a noble death of "stopped moving forward while going uphill" and after her diagnosis last winter of "will catch fire if left to idle for more than 5 minutes" I decided it was time to let her rest 🪦 🚗 😢

[xbadgerbearx]

bird

word count: 1.6k

Can’t Sleep: [4] … [6]

Not too long later, Gaius Grieves revealed himself. Your little trio watched as Robert discreetly put a gun to his back and started talking. You weren't close enough to decipher what he said. Once he started moving your team got the cue to follow. However, everyone stopped in their tracks once soldiers were spotted.

"I thought Milton was supposed to be our lookout," you muttered as the soldiers started speaking Spanish to the patrons in the club.

As the soldiers got more aggressive in their search for Americans, Robert turned to Cleo.

"All right," Robert motioned to Grieves. "Take him out through the back, all right? Find my coordinates in the pad and meet me in half an hour," he ordered while handing Abner a gun.

"What?"

"Hey, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, but-"

"Go."

Cleo hesitated before grabbing Grieves.

"Let's go."

As you were leading your small group to the back entrance, you heard Robert yell out, "Hey, calm down! There's no need to disturb everyone's night."

You could faintly hear Flag speak up as you found a door marked Solo Empleados.

"This way."

Unfortunately the door you opened was the dressing room for the dancers. You heard Abner say, "Oh, God," before a stumbling sound and a gun being handled. You briefly looked back to see Abner holding Grieves at gun pointing and ordering him to "Move it!"

Damn. That was a little hot.

Pushing your way through the dancers and out the door, you let out a small gasp at the soldier standing in front of you. Cleo, ever the quick thinker, used her device to have a rat crawl down his throat.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

You eventually made your way outside in an alley. Milton jogged over once he caught sight of you four.

"Your equipment manipulates animal behavior, clever," Grieves spoke out. "I'm working on something similar with humans."

"Be quiet, please."

"You are perceivably panicked. I'm guessing that you are not the alphas of this battalion."

"Do you want a dozen angry rodents crawling up your ass?" Cleo snapped.

"My answer might not be what you expect."

"Disgusting," you commented as Abner ushered Grieves to move.

You quickly made your way into the van. Milton took the driver's seat, Abner sat in the middle across from Grieves who still had a gun pointed at him, and you and Cleo took a seat in the back by Nanaue.

"Hello, friends!"

"Hi, yes, hello to you too, Nanaue," you said before pointing at Grieves. "Nom nom this man if I give the word."

"Okay!"

Cleo rummaged through DuBois bag before handing you the coordinate pad he spoke of earlier. Was that a picture of his daughter you saw? You couldn't get a good look since Cleo zipped up the bag. Coordinates in hand, you made your way back up the front to give Milton directions.

"Oh ho ho, what's this?" Grieves smuggly declared. You were too busy paying attention to the road to hear him.

"What's what?"

"I saw that little look you gave to your teammate."

"There was no look," Abner denied.

"Ah, but there was. How are you going to pretend you weren't just looking at their ass as they passed? You seem to have a school boy crush."

"Abner has a crush?" Cleo entered the conversation.

"No!"

Grieves laughed before answering Cleo. "You seem to have forgotten that I study people for a living, and I am very good at my job."

"Pet pet and Polky?" Nanaue piped up from the back.

"No! No Pet pet and Polky," Abner said with exasperation. However, upon looking at you and seeing how captivating you looked under the flashing lights of the street lamps, he followed it up with defeated, "Okay, maybe Pet pet and Polky."

"Dios mío!" Cleo exclaimed before she was hurriedly shushed. They both looked over to see if you heard.

"Okay, now take a right onto this street."

You did not.

"I'm happy for you, Abner."

"You seem to have forgotten you are on a mission. This isn't some little girl's slumber party."

Cleo slapped Grieves over the back of the head as Abner seemed to remember that he had a gun in his hand.

"Be quiet."

"Is- is that them?"

The team all looked at you as they looked out the window. Following your gaze, it landed on an upside down armored vehicle in a ditch.

"Of course it is, who else would be dumb enough," you sighed.

Milton slowly approached the area and parked the van. As soon as it stopped you jumped out to see if they were still there. Turns out you didn't have to wait long; the back door unlocked to reveal your three teammates scuffed but otherwise unharmed.

You wouldn't admit it but you felt relieved.

"All right," Robert grunted. "Let's go to Jotunheim."

"Nope. There's somethin' we gotta take care of first."

"What?"

Rick sighed out, "As much as it pains me to say, we gotta get Harley Quinn."

"Harley who?"

"Quinn. She was on Team 1 with me. Now that I know where she is, we gotta go get her."

"Fuck no."

"Come on, man." They made their way back into the van after you. "She's a valuable asset."

"I said no."

"Don't make me get Waller into this."

Robert thought for a moment. "Fuck, fine, alright. We'll go get 'er."

Everyone eventually got seated. This time you actually sat in a seat since you weren't planning on taking an impromptu nap—although that did sound nice. Flag filled Milton out on the details and directed him on where to go as you all got cozy. Robert and Chris were going at it again, Cleo was asleep, Nanaue was trying to get you to sit in his lap, and Abner was watching in amusement.

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"Pet pet?"

"No, Nanaue."

Nanaue put on his best pout, "Please?"

You should not have turned around to look at him. Sighing, you stood up and made your way over to him.

"Hahaha!" He sounded like a giddy kid in a candy store. He gently picked you up and placed you on his lap. Immediately he started petting you again and hummed. Your legs were cramped and you felt like you were about to fall off his lap. Without saying anything, you sprawled your legs across Abner's lap. He just looked at you with a smile before adjusting himself to accommodate you. Resting his arms over your legs, he continued looking out the window.

"How fascinating."

"Hmm?" You looked at Grieves.

"You don't happen to also control animal behavior, do you?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Fair."

You heard a loud sigh from Chris. "Is this going to become a regular occurance?"

"What, you jealous? I'm calling it now, if we have another night during this mission I'm using him as my cuddle buddy."

"Whatever."

Although you said you wouldn't, you were almost asleep before Robert made the call for everyone to gear up. While everyone was rushing to get their gear on, you just yawned and leaned over to handcuff Grieves to a seat before making yourself at home on Nanaue again. You weren't exactly trained to fight with weapons, although you did grab a nearby combat knife to carry.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. You're gonna risk the entire mission for a mental defective dressed as a court jester."

"This is coming from a guy that wears a toilet seat on his head."

"We don't leave our own behind," Rick reminded.

"You're okay with this?"

"No, but I've been around Flag when he's got a rag in his mouth. Best not to tug it."

"Motherfucker!"

Just as everyone seemed almost ready, you hopped off Nanaue and gently nudged Cleo.

"Come on, gotta wake up."

"All right, let's go."

Everyone—besides Grieves—exited the vehicle before Flag announced his plan.

"All right, we'll enter through the third floor, go to the inner staircase, and then down to the cellar where they usually keep their detainees. Hopefully, Harley's still alive."

Still butthurt about what Robert said, Chris stubbornly muttered, "It's not a toilet seat, it's a beacon of freedom!"

Everyone got into position; Peacemaker somehow scaled a building to get a vantage point, Abner was down the street looking for traffic, Rick and Robert were beside one of the walls ready to climb to the third floor, you turned into a bird (much to the amazement of your team) so you could quickly enter the window Robert would open, and Nanaue—who forgot you turned into a bird—stared at you.

"Ratatouille, what do you got?"

"Third floor hallway's clear. Abner?"

"There doesn't seem to be any incoming traffic."

"Bird."

"Nanaue, that's Mimic you meathead- and stay off the comm!"

"Colonel, I got a clean shot on the only one in the office. Just give the word."

"Fire on three, two..."

"What're you guys doing?"

Rick looked at Harley, then DuBois, then back to Harley. "I... you- we're here to save you."

"You were gonna... save me?" Harley visibly looked touched.

"It was a really good plan, too."

"Well I can go back inside and you can still do it."

"That's patronizing," Bloodsport commented.

You saw Harley drag a big stick thing over to Flag and hug him.

"Uh, what's with the javelin?"

"I'm waiting for God to tell me."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Yeah, or Him. Or any of them, really."

You and Nanaue watched as Harley and Bloodsport had an awkward introduction.

"Never mind everyone, Harley is secure."

"What?"

"Meet me in the van so we can leave as quickly as possible."

Sighing, you morphed back into your original form. Nanaue made an audible gasp as he saw you sitting on the railing.

"Pet pet?

"Yes, Nanaue, it's me, Pet pet."

King Shark laughed as he started petting you immediately. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you swatted his hand away and motioned for him to follow you.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 285: You Looked Like You Needed Saving

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “hey guys I’m just gonna fight Tomura one on one and risk my own life rather than risk letting him do the whole Destroying Everything bit again.” Kacchan was all “WAIT NO ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT’S THE EXACT THING I HATE THE MOST” and indignantly launched into his “P.S. I CARE ABOUT DEKU” flashback, which was a revelation in that it proved exactly what Bakugou fans have been saying this whole time, AND YET OUR MINDS WERE STILL BLOWN ANYWAY, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT, HE REALLY WENT AND SAID IT OUT LOUD THOUGH. Anyway, so Deku’s strategy for defeating Tomura is to, you guessed it, break his fucking arms again; and meanwhile a frantic Katsuki is gearing up on the sidelines to do something really awesome and incredibly stupid, probably; and all in all it’s a pretty terrible situation our boys have found themselves in. Terrible for them, but GREAT for me, and I’ve never been so hyped in my life omg.

Today on BnHA: Deku breaks both of his arms like a dozen times over. Like, just pages and pages of arm breaking. Just like in the good old days! Meanwhile Kacchan is all “jesus christ, okay you know what would be a better idea, JUST SETTING HIM ON FIRE AGAIN”, and so he grabs Shouto and Endeavor, and they do a whole Prominence Burn combo thing. The AFO-inside-of-Tomura is all “‘sup it’s me again, but seriously now would be a REALLY good time to let me take over your body”, and so Tomura TOTALLY DOES LET HIM TAKE OVER, WHOOP, and so AFO is all “HELLS YEAH.” And then he STRAIGHT UP STABS MY SON, WHOSE BODY WAS SIMPLY MOVING ON ITS OWN, YOU KNOW, JUST HERO THINGS. Anyway so now Kacchan is fucking dead*, and so if I were AFO I would start putting as much distance as possible between myself and Deku right the fuck now, because boy, IF YOU THOUGHT HE WAS MAD BEFORE? Holy shit. We’re about to see a whole new level aren’t we.

LOL WE’RE OFF TO A GRAND OLD START

Deku’s arms should sue for legal emancipation. I think most of us can agree that they’re probably better off without him. sure they’ll have to buy their own food and stuff, but I think the trade-off is more than fair

oh wow that 100% shit really is something though

too bad it did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!! spoiler alert. I don’t even have to scroll to the next page, Deku. we already know

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS

did Deku really pull off some “three hits in one” bullshit, or is this a mistranslation referring to the fact that Deku’s already hit him twice with his left arm, and so this is now the third 100% hit. kinda hoping for the latter, ngl. either way though, I’m really getting a “Deku’s arms are legitimately done for” vibe from this

ESPECIALLY SINCE:

DEKU YOU SHRUB!!! WAS IT WORTH IT YOU EGG FDKF KKDJ YOU DON’T GET BONUS POINTS FOR BREAKING THEM TWICE

goddammit I’m pretty sure he just Detroit Smashed the last remaining hero brain cell. now they have diddly squat to work with, oh this is bad

...

do you guys remember a few weeks back when I was joking about him breaking the rest of his bones and using Blackwhip to move his shattered body around like a grotesque marionette. do you specifically remember the part where that was a joke

holy shit Deku. it’s like we’re all the way back to square one with you. wasn’t that like the first thing Aizawa taught you, not to break your whole body apart? how are you supposed to fight Tomura if you can’t move?? why didn’t you wait for one of your pals who could hit him with an attack from long range WITHOUT BREAKING EVERY SINGLE BONE IN THEIR BODIES. WHERE DID YOUR BIG HERO BRAIN GO

boy you better pray one of those remaining quirks is a healing factor, or else you’re gonna be on IR for a LONG time. anyway. idk why I’m getting so worked up when I already knew this was going to happen lol. it’s just like Katsuki said; he takes himself out of the equation. it’s worth sacrificing his own body if it means he can take out AFO and prevent Tomura from hurting anyone else again. it’s just that... well. you know that saying about taking calculated risks when you are bad at math?

GUH I REALLY HATE THAT TOMURA IS STILL COMPLETELY FINE KSKWOILWKKJ AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE A LITTLE HURT, WOULD YOU

please ignore all of those worried-sounding thoughts; I think we all know that’s a bunch of bullshit. completely and utterly fine. the only person Deku’s attacks hurt was himself. hip hip hooray

anyway. so now, this!

pretty sure he can’t use Decay or AFO without at least touching SOMETHING, so I’m guessing this is another one of his new quirks. dammit Tomura why are you so fucking invincible

HAHAHA MEANWHILE

if I were you, Deku’s Arms, I would simply detach from his body altogether at this point. cut my losses. mmm

OOF HE HIT HIM WITH THE WHOLE OF TEXAS

spoiler alert: again, it did nothing. SORRY TO KEEP RUINING THE SUSPENSE FOR YOU GUYS. is there a single human being reading this who thought for even for the milliest of seconds that this stood a chance of working though

OH MY GOD

DEKU GET IT TOGETHER YOU’RE STARTING TO LOOK LIKE THE ENIGMA OF AMIGARA FAULT AND I CAN’T STAND THIS ACTUALLY

so Tomura is all “there must be something I can do to stop this fucking kid” and shuffling through his quirk pokedex while he’s tossed around bleeding in the air

hey Tomura I’ll tell you right now that you don’t actually need to do a damn thing except not die for roughly the next thirty seconds or so, and then you’ve got this. the quirk that can stop this kid is called “One for All”, and it just so happens he’s already got you covered bruh

and Katsuki’s realized the same thing, apparently!

SHOUTO YOU’RE NOT EVEN LOOKING?? wow that is some trust right there. focused on cauterizing Gran and Aizawa’s wounds, I guess

MEANWHILE KATSUKI IS PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS. HE FOUND A NEW BRAIN CELL! A WHOLE DAMN CACHE OF FRESH NEW BRAIN CELLS, LOOK AT THIS

THANKS FOR THAT, PROFESSOR

OH SHIT SON ARE WE MOUNTING A COUNTERATTACK?

I like how Endeavor is just SITTING THERE in the background looking all disgruntled. yes, sorry about that sir, this is now Kacchan’s show. he’s in charge now. time for that long-range attack I was complaining about them not doing earlier?? hopefully?? omg

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S A BAKUROKI TRIPLE COMBO?!?!

ARE YOU GOING TO YEET THEM A LA GANG ORCA?? ALSO OH MY GOD, HE REALLY IS IN CHARGE. FIRST DEKU TOOK OVER FOR TWO MINUTES UNTIL HE BROKE ALL HIS BONES, AND NOW IT’S KACCHAN’S TIME. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU KIDS

LOL SHOUTO’S GETTING IN ON THIS TOO

THIS JUST IN, THE KIDS HAVE TAKEN OVER THE MANGA, ADULTS OF BNHA IN SHAMBLES

WELL MAYBE NEXT TIME DON’T LET AIZAWA GET SHOT THEN, YOU HAT!!!

WOOP OKAY WE FLYING NOW

Kacchan, tired of sitting back watching Deku invent new ways to die, decides to improvise a few of his own. hmmmmmmm

(ETA: HE LEARNED FROM THE BEST ORZ.)

OKAY WAIT A MINUTE NOW

why does this sound like he’s planning something on his own after the Todorokis have done their part. KACCHAN. EXCUSE ME, KACCHAN

SDLFKJLKJLJ

OKAY HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

IS THIS LEADING WHERE I THINK IT’S LEADING, HOLY --

-- ooOF

I WASN’T FUCKING READY FOR THAT ONE. BAKUBULLYING FROM HIS OWN NOW-REMORSEFUL POV. SHIT. FUCKING FELT THAT. HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE BUILDING UP TO AN “ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL” REVEAL, AND THEN YOU GO AND PULL THAT INSTEAD, WHAT’S GOING ON

-- HOLD UP WE’RE NOT DONE WITH THIS ONE YET MAYBE!!

“ONE FOR ALL IS”??!? KDSLFJAKLSJLKJLKJL AND THEN INTERRUPTING ME WITH THE CUTE BABIES WATCHING THE ALL MIGHT FOOTAGE, OH MY GOD. I’M JUST WILDLY REACTING TO EVERYTHING THAT’S BEING THROWN AT ME RIGHT NOW LMAO I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS LEADING

OOF THE NOTEBOOK

KACCHAN THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR MEMORY HONEY, GET IT TOGETHER

OH MY GLOB

THIS IS THE MOST NONSENSICAL SEQUENCE OF PANELS RIGHT NOW. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL SHORTLY GOING TO COME TOGETHER IN SOME PROFOUND WAY THAT’S GOING TO KICK MY EMOTIONS SQUARE IN THE BALLS, BUT RIGHT NOW I’M JUST ALL “OOH AHH” LIKE SOME HAPLESS RUBE ALONG FOR THE RIDE. p.s. this chapter still doesn’t have a title!! p.p.s. Horikoshi is a knave

(ETA: HORIKOSHI IS A FUCKING MALFEASANT!!)

I CAN’T TAKE THIS??

PLEASE STOP BUILDING UP TO WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE BUILDING UP TO AND JUST SAY IT ALREADY, I’M DYING OMG

...and we’re cutting back to the action. godfuckingdammit it’s gonna be one of those chapters where the entire thing is just buildup to some huge reveal on the very last page isn’t it

(ETA: [sounds of screaming heard in the distance])

anyway so this next page is just Deku flying in the air, and Tomura flying through the air, and Endeavor+Katsuki+Shouto flying through the air, and everyone’s flying through the air, and we’re all just flying. TALK TO ME MORE ABOUT THE CURSE OF OFA DAMN IT

OOHHHHHH

guess if it was good enough for Hood, it’s probably their best shot huh. better than whatever the fuck Deku was trying to pull at any rate

OOP

gotta admit, if I didn’t already know full well that Tomura could not possibly die here, I’d have been pretty convinced he was dying here lol

DSFKJL ENDEAVOR BUDDY YOU MIGHT HAVE POSSIBLY OVERDONE IT JUST A BIT

wait... is that Blackwhip...?? or???

OH SHIT

WHAT EVEN IS THIS CHAPTER, COME ON

-- FMMMJAKAKJDJL, UM

TIME TO SCROLL BACK UP TO THAT PANEL OF TOMURA BEING MELTED, AND READ WHAT AFO WAS SAYING A LITTLE MORE CAREFULLY LMAOOOO. LOL. WHOOPS. OH NO KATSUKI WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

AHHHHHHHH

WHAT’S WITH THE NARRATION SQUARE ALL OF A SUDDEN AHHHHHH

oh my fresh and citrusy lord. this is it isn’t it. all of my theories converge at once. Tomura being possessed by AFO; OFA is AFO/Deku has AFO; Katsuki does something stupid and loses his quirk. THE PERFECT STORM. THEORY SINGULARITY

oh my lord oh my god oh my lord oh my god honey what are you doing, honey, no

his body’s moving before he can think. WHAT ARE THESE FLASHBACKS OF ALL HIS DEKU RELATED MEMORIES. BULLYING DEKU, BEING SAVED FROM THE SLUDGE MONSTER, RECONCILING WITH HIM AT GROUND BETA, OH MY GOD. I’M NOT READY. [WRAPS MYSELF IN A BLANKET BURRITO AND SLOWLY SCROLLS DOWN FROM THE SAFETY OF MY COCOON]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HORIKOSHI KOUHEI: [LOADS GUN WITH CHAPTER TITLE AND AIMS DIRECTLY FOR MY HEART]

ME: [SWEATING]

HORIKOSHI: [SMILES, REACHES FOR THE TRIGGER... AND THEN SUCKER PUNCHES ME SQUARE IN THE FACE]

excuse me WHAT. PARDON, THE FUCK. WHY ARE THE FIRST FEW LONE PIANO NOTES OF ADELE’S “SKYFALL” PLAYING. WHAT THE FUCK

excuse me, Horikoshi. excuse me, could I just -- could I get. COULD I JUST GET A WORD WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE. SIR

son of a. ...how am I even supposed to wrap this up. just

sob okay. so let’s just. ...

All for One 100% just took Tomura’s body over. like, he was all “Tomura, you’re fucking dying, just give me your body you muppet”, and Tomura couldn’t really argue on account of he really was dying, and so, YOINK. which is the sound that a body makes when it’s being taken over, I think

All for One then activated his forced activation quirk?? which OF FUCKING COURSE he passed on to Tomura as well. so THAT’S JUST GREAT

Kacchan is seriously the fastest character in the series. the reflexes, the sheer speed necessary to intercept that hit? goddamn

every single one of those BakuDeku flashbacks are now wanted by the FBI for first-degree murder of me

this has nothing to do with Kacchan fucking dying and stuff, but is it just me or were there HUGE “Kacchan as Bakugou’s hero name” vibes earlier on in this chapter with the flashbacks to Deku explaining the meaning behind his own name, HMM

and speaking of, this is the first time we’ve gotten Kacchan narrating in the little box panels, unless I’m completely mistaken somehow. Horikoshi really waited almost 300 whole chapters to do that. and it was worth it. holy shit

fun fact, this moment is something that’s been on my wishlist since chapter 12 lol, you can go back and check the recap if you want. back then I called it a long shot. oh how the times have changed

I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M EVEN SO STUNNED ABOUT THIS, GUYS. this is exactly what I predicted at the end of the last chapter. MY CHILD IS DUMB. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. HE’S THAT EXACT KIND OF SHOUNEN DUMB. WE’VE KNOWN IT ALL ALONG

oh my god. and now Deku’s gonna go ham, arms or no arms. AND BETS ON WHICH NEW QUIRK HE’S ABOUT TO UNLOCK? because the last time someone so much as insulted Kacchan in his presence, he SPONTANEOUSLY GREW SHADOW TENTACLES OUT OF THE BLUE AND ATTEMPTED TO MURDER THE PERSON. so if this kid has got ANYTHING left up his sleeve, I have to imagine that SEEING HIS PRECIOUS CHILDHOOD FRIEND TAKE A DEADLY ATTACK MEANT FOR HIM is gonna leave him feeling SOME KINDA WAY. I literally have no idea what’s going to happen next but I would not count this angry little broccoli out yet. not as long as he’s still conscious

anyway. so I wonder what’s the world record for continuous screaming, and whether or not I could break said record by doing such nonstop from now until a week from now when I finally get to read the next chapter

...lol apparently the record is only 8 mins and 45 seconds so GOOD NEWS GUYS, WITH THE POWER OF THIS NEW CHAPTER, WE ARE GOING TO MAKE HISTORY. DEEP BREATH. -- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.10)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Ten) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,259 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death

Part Nine || Part Eleven || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I gotta run,” Natasha informed Wanda quietly, pulling her aside.

“Is there a problem?” Wanda asked concerned.

“Not yet.”

“Okay?” Wanda said, cocking an eyebrow.

Natasha was not going to give her anything else at the moment before she talked to Steve. “It’s fine. Don’t let Y/N worry about me being gone. Help her enjoy the party.”

“Alright,” Wanda responded, and Natasha nodded, before turning on her heel and walking off quickly to make sure to be out of the house before Y/N and Natalie emerged from the bathroom.

On her way out the door to her car, Natasha texted Steve.

I’m on my way to Tony’s. Don’t leave until I get there.

Is there something wrong?

Not immediate. I’ll be there soon.

<> <> <>

Natalie pulled away from you after a while – she had to have let you cry for a good few minutes – and wiped at your tears. “Here,” she said gently, leaving you to go towards the linen cupboard. She pulled out a washcloth and grabbed a small handful of toilet paper too. You thanked her, sniffling, wiping at your tears before using the tissue to blow your nose. You were sure you looked cute with snot hanging out there.

“Look. What can you do? Realistically?” Natalie asked you quietly.

Your shoulders slumped and you whispered, “Nothing.”

“No, not nothing, Y/N. You can hold your chin up,” Natalie told you, her fingers pushing your chin up as she spoke. She paused before asking, “Are you willing to leave the babies behind?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you pondered for a few seconds. You ended up shaking your head. “I… I thought so when this first all started out. But how can I leave two babies behind? They would financially be well taken care of, yes. But… I just can’t,” you said breathing shakily. “I don’t know if I could live with myself.”

“Well, I was only asking because I wondered if you did… if you thought Steve would leave you be. Even if you ran off.”

You shook your head again, giving a humorless laugh. “No, I don’t think Steve would leave me be. Bryce said he didn’t think Steve would kill me if I ran away. Which to me insinuates he would hurt or kill anyone else who tried to help me. I am hard pressed to believe that he wouldn’t want to kill me though. He’s not a man to wound, especially emotionally. Everyone talks to me like I’m… his property. That I’m carrying his property too.”

Solemnly, Natalie told you, “Some people treat others that way. That’s obsession, not love.”

“Or they’re all just misogynistic fucks. I mean… Pepper even told me that she dealt with it with Tony! He threatened to shoot me a couple weeks ago, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Natalie demanded, staring at you in absolute shock.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Miriam called from outside the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’ll be out in a second,” you called back. To Natalie, you whispered, “Shit, we have been in for a long while.”

Natalie grasped your shoulders, “You go out there. I’m going to go upstairs and pack you a bag.”

“What?” you asked flabbergasted.

“You heard me. My cousin has a cabin in New Hampshire. I’m going to take you there and then we can figure out what we are going to do next.”

“I—” you tried to argue but Natalie shushed you.

“Go out there. Be with them.”

“Natalie, I can’t,” you hissed, thinking of Wanda and Natasha out in the living room. “You just told me I didn’t have a plan! Plus, Tony’s got technology everywhere and Steve won’t let me go. Did you miss me saying he would ki—”

“If we leave during this party while everyone is distracted, Y/N, they won’t know which direction we went.”

“Your license plate—”

Natalie covered your mouth and said, “We need to stop arguing about this and just do it. I’m not going to leave here without you. It has to be now.”

She stared deep into your eyes, challenging you to argue with her. You knew you were not going to be able to convince her to drop this idea, not with the fire burning in her eyes.

When she knew you were not going to say anything more, her hand fell. You swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, wiping at your eyes one more time. “Good thing we already took pictures,” you muttered before going to the door and throwing it open.

Miriam’s brow creased seeing Natalie in there with you but you looped arms with her before she could say anything. “Sorry, I just needed to get some stress out. Poor Natalie had to endure that.” You threw a look over your shoulder at Natalie who was slow to leave the bathroom, mouthing her a thanks.

Your heart was pounding in anticipation.

<> <> <>

Natalie waited until Miriam and Y/N were out of sight before turning and going towards the entrance hall to the stairs leading upstairs. Quietly, she made her way up the stairs and searched around the second floor, looking for their bedroom.

There was a note on a door handle she passed by and she hesitated.

Don’t open until after you open your gifts. Love you, Steve.

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened the door, thinking it was possibly their bedroom and Steve had left her something on their bed. Behind the door though laid the nursery. She swallowed sharply seeing balloons attached to the crib, no doubt a gift Steve had left in surprise for Y/N. It was oak grey, matching the dresser.

Quickly closing the door, Natalie continued on, trying to not think about the cameras that she was more than likely being filmed on right now and what Y/N had warned her about Steve’s wrath. Getting her friend to safety was more important than worrying about the what-ifs.

<> <> <>

Finding Natasha gone quelled your nausea slightly but not entirely. One less Avenger on the premises was cause for you to be more hopeful about Nataile’s rash plan working. Especially since Bryce was in the theater room, engrossed in a Michael Bay-esque film.

You grasped Yua’s arm as the group merged towards the patio where the cake was waiting and another few yard games. You asked her quietly, “You came with Natalie, right?”

“Mhm,” Yua affirmed, holding your arm back.

“When you two leave, I am going with you.”

“What?”

“Not so loud,” you whispered to her. “You just… if you don’t want to get involved, then get a ride home with Miriam. Please.”

“’Involved’? Y/N, what is going on?” Yua asked, stopping you and making you face her.

You leaned in and whispered, “I’m leaving. Natalie is taking me. She’s packing me a bag – hopefully getting herself some clothes too.” You were being vague, worrying still about the security cameras. “There is a lot of risk. Now, think about it. I need to go cut my cake and act normal.”

Without another word, you left her there, moving towards the table where the rest of the ladies were gushing over how beautiful the cake was.

<> <> <>

Steve was on Natasha as soon as she pulled up and got out of the car.

“Can we go inside?” she asked, staring up at him.

It did not seem like he wanted to wait because he rolled his eyes but stepped back and she moved around him, him on her heels.

“What happened?” Steve demanded as he followed her through the front door.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Why am I being dragged into this?” Tony drawled as she walked in from the hallway. He was on the couch in front of the flatscreen, arms sprawled along the back of the couch.

“Because it’s your man too.”

Tony was interested suddenly, sitting up straighter. Steve stood off to the side of the couch, waiting impatiently for Natasha to get to the point.

She met his eyes and asked seriously, “Has Bryce talked to you? About Y/N asking him for help to leave?”

Steve’s face pinched. “No,” he said sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh boy,” Tony breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I heard her. Talking to her friend, Natalie, in the bathroom. I was outside and doing some rounds to get some air. Thought it was a little weird they were both in the bathroom. So, I got near the bushes and heard them talking about it. Y/N was going on about how she feels trapped—” Steve’s jaw clenched at this, not going unnoticed by Natasha. But she kept speaking anyway. “And how she wants it to work with you but doesn’t think you’ll ever let her breathe and have her own space. Said she knows Natalie warned her about you, but you were too sweet, and she didn’t care about the warning.”

Steve scoffed, hands coming to his hips. He sucked at his teeth, shaking his head.

“So, what about Bryce?” Tony asked impatiently.

“She said she asked Bryce to help her leave Steve,” Natasha explained. “And he wouldn’t help her and made her promise she wouldn’t try to leave. But it sounded like she had another plan. Something about taking a train and stealing someone’s ticket at the station so she wouldn’t be on camera at the ticket counter – presumably so you wouldn’t know where she was going. She said something outlandish about living at a church and taking them up on hospitality and working for them to make up for it. Which, Natalie to her credit, told her that was a dumb plan. And Y/N agreed. But she wanted Natalie in the bathroom with her to use her phone, again presumably, so you couldn’t see the search in her phone.” Natasha caught Steve’s eyes again and told him firmly, “When you said she was rattled when this all first started, she hasn’t settled, Steve. She’s a mess of nerves. And she definitely sounds like she’s willing to be impulsive and reckless about it.”

It was silent in the room, Steve’s fingers digging into his hips. His jaw was clenched so tightly Natasha thought of him cracking his teeth.

“That little, conniving bitch!” Steve growled, his hands falling to his sides and he began storming towards the hallway.

Natasha stepped in his path and he stopped, rearing up to glower at her, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Move, Nat,” Steve warned her in a dangerous voice.

“I came here specifically to tell you so you would not lose your shit in the middle of a party,” Natasha told Steve firmly. “So, can you do me a favor and respect that? Cool out and think?”

“I don’t think this warrants me cooling off and giving Y/N any sense of calm,” Steve returned, his voice rising. “She was going to leave me and take my children away from me, Nat!”

Tony chimed in from behind Steve, “I think the problem here is Bryce not telling you,” Steve craned his head to look back at him. Tony looked right pissed off, rivaling Steve. “Woman is hormonal, standing on shaky ground emotionally. Bryce has his head on right – or at least we thought he did. Him agreeing to not help her is working in his favor but he shouldn’t keep that shit to himself. He should have told you the moment it happened. Just making her promise to not do something isn’t going to do shit, especially if she’s promising him. What is he to her? Her bodyguard? Whoopee fucking doo.” Tony shook his head. “No, that’s fucked up. He had a duty to tell you.”

Steve’s cell phone rang interrupting the conversation, and he swore under his breath, pulling it out of his back pocket. He furrowed down at it before answering tightly, “Wanda?”

Natasha took a step closer, trying to hear her on the other end of the phone. Steve’s face fell for a moment, like the air had gotten kicked out of him.

He recovered quickly, demanding furiously, “What the hell do you mean she’s not there?”

Tony was standing now, at attention. He was watching Steve nervously, thinking of a super soldier losing his shit and breaking shit in his house.

“How long?” Steve shouted, losing his temper. He shook his head furiously and snarled, “Twenty minutes doesn’t give them long to get anywhere. And why were you doing dishes? Where the hell was Bryce—never mind. You know what. Just stay there. Have Bryce and the security check the grounds again.”

He hung up, holding his cell in his hands tightly. Steve was trembling with rage, his hand threatening to crush his phone. Tony and Natasha were silent, waiting for him to react. He breathed in deeply, over exaggerated, turning on his heel to walk towards the counter. He placed his phone down, gingerly despite his anger. His hands planted, his fingertips digging into the counter like he wanted to tear chunks off.

“If she is not there…” he trailed off. Exhaling, he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. His hands came up behind his hand, trying to stop himself from breaking Tony’s countertop in half with his fist.

“The train stations,” Natasha suggested, keeping her voice steady.

A few more deep breaths and Steve had the calm about him to say, “Someone else needs to drive because I’ll probably rip that goddamn steering wheel off.”

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog 

[purplerose244]

My thoughts on Seabound!!! 🌊🌊🌊 (3/4)

SPOILERS ALERT!!!

Yep yep yep, I'm liking this season a lot! 😍 Although I hope we'll get into a more frantic situation now, like with more battles and more bonding moments (Nya and Maya hopefully, but with Bentho too 🦈🦈🦈)! We got half a season to go, I'M READY!! 😎😎

Alright, here we go!

GENERAL THOUGHTS

I do like the season a lot, maybe MoM was a little more cohesive? Idk but it's not a big complain, I still love it so far 😍

Also maybe I would've liked more interactions between Nya and Maya about how they've been apart for so long, they had a chit chat but I would've loved even more. Maybe with Nya saying that it was fine and she grew up only to realize she is still hurt by that, even though it wasn't Maya's fault. I still like how they did it, I wished there was more that's it 🤷‍♀️

While I do make sense to Maya's behavior, that while it seems a little different from Hands of Time it had its logic in my opinion, maybe Ray feels a little weird? He seems less courageous than before, and it was established that he is a hothead like his son so that came off as unusual 🤔🤔

But I do love the fact that he's here and he's bonding with his son, for real, I've been waiting for this for so long so I'm happy nonetheless 🤩

Maybe I'm just easy to please and I take all I can get idk 😅

THE STORM AMULET

Oh, are we gonna address the wind element? It feels like we haven't really seen a Morro reference since Hands of Time, that would be cool! 😍 I mean, why even mentioning the wind then 😅😅

Well what do you know, they tracked them, who saw that coming?... me, I saw that coming... we all did probably 🤷‍♀️

Jay took upon himself making a quick recap on how Ninjago will be destroyed this time, thanks Bluebell 👌

Yep nyeheh electricity makes Nya go crazy for sure ❤💙 ... wait it wasn't a Jaya pun?

Jay wear your seatbelt please, you risk you life enough 😅😅 Pff lol "are we there yet" and they are actually there, biggest plot twist I've ever heard of 😂

LEGO HUG 💜💜💜

And with someone who might as well join the League of Jay apparently 💙

I liked The Island yet it was not as exciting as I hoped for, but now understand the meaning of it. The ninja helped the keepers and they are all allies. Without The Island the moment where Mammatus gives Nya the amulet wouldn't be as meaningful

Is it just me or Nya looked even more gorgeous during that moment?... just me huh? Okay then 😂💕

Wait that's a fake? Wait... UNCLE POWERS?!? OMG THAT I ACTUALLY DIDN'T SEE COMING 🤯

Here I thought he was just messing around, he always makes things harder 😅 Or maybe better? I mean, they kinda missed a bullet on this one...

BENTHO IS SO SWEET AND COOL OMG HE IS ALREADY OUR FRIEND 💙🦈💙🦈

Jay somehow had his own TV show in the past and yet he's got that horrible acting skills wth 😂😂😂

Kalmaar is a very cool villain, like, deeply evil. Not only he's calculated and merciless, he stops at nothing to get what he wants. And the people that get in the way? He wants them to suffer because they had dared to confront him 😳

And yes the voice does help a lot, I'm sorry I'll keep saying it until the season is over 😂 (or even beyond? Please cast Giles again LEGO 🥺🥺🥺)

Awww Nya no my poor girl 😢 Jay wanted to hug her to comfort her he is so sweet my SHIP ❤💙❤💙

MOM PEP TALK MOM PEP TALK!!! 🤩🤩🤩 How cool was it?

Like, this isn't even Maya asking Nya to believe in herself, this is her saying that she KNOWS her daughter can do anything when she puts her mind into it. FINALLY SHE SEES HOW AMAZING WATER GODDESS IS 💜💜💜

MORE LEGO TEARS OMG THIS SEASON IS FILLED WITH TEARS 😱 Which... kinda makes sense considering it's a water based season 😂

Nice one, and now? NOW WE GO BACK TO KAI COLE AND RAY YAS!!! ❤🖤❤🖤

RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX

That is... surprisingly Egypt theme like? It feels like a title coming from the Fire Chapter of season 11... well we got two fire elementals so 😍😍

SPARRING KAI AND RAY

I REPEAT SPARRING KAI AND RAY!!! SPARRING KAI AND RAY!!! ❤❤❤ Lol Ray got old, but how can someone blame him? He did touch death while aging in Hands of Time, I'm just happy he is alive 😂

Yep, master prankster Wu, that's what I love 👌👌 I always thought Wu had become a father figure for Kai at the beginning, so seeing Ray and Wu in the same picture feels very wholesome to me 😚

Ah, uncle Powers, I both love you and hate you so freaking much 😌😌 But you make cool slides nonetheless 😂

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME WITH BEAUTIFUL SMITH INTERACTIONS??

BECAUSE I LIKE IT KEEP GOING 🤩

Oh no you guys are stranded on an island whatever are you going to do?? It's not like you had already before and managed to survive (Skybound) or you got stranded on a rock in a sea of sand filled with giant monsters (Fire Chapter) or you were on a freaking COMET in SPACE (Rebooted). Yeee, this is the worst yet 🙂

I'm starting to think these ninja are just a bunch of drama queens so no matter what happens, it's always hopeless 😂😂 I feel like I'm kinda right on this one honestly 😛

Whoa whoa WHOA WHO IS NYAD THIS SOUNDS VERY COOL???

Aww I like that, while Ray told his kids stories about dragons and how they traveled through the Underworld, Maya told them about Nya the first water master that could summon whales 💙❤💙❤

Pff imagine if it turned out Nya was the master of fire, carrying a very water based name? Lol

Maya: I would know if it was possible!

Nya: Yeah, like she knows that I can control a bit of ice because it's frozen water

Maya:...

Maya: YOU WHAT

I find both interesting and very annoying that this explorers club thinks so highly of themselves, to the point the deny to aid even the FREAKING SAVIORS OF THEIR FREAKING LAND 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Misako got good reflexes after all, Kai was probably ready to melt this guy's face 😅

Oh, so a trial by Sphinx is a challenge? A mental one? A cultural one? A physical one? Idk but Misako is actually taking charge and that is cool I guess 🤷‍♀️

Okay this is kind of weird, how is Ray so afraid? Is it because there's fire?... did he... did he grow afraid of fire for some reason? Because it feels a bit off for now, but if there is a deeper meaning that could be interesting 🤔

Wait is that the riddle from Decoded? That's fire right?

IT IS FIRE 🔥🔥🔥

Lol at least in this one Kai wasn't completely ignored 😂 I know my flame babe isn't the most rational person, but I do like that it was an answer connected to his element where he used his head!

Ah Clutch, you really got no backbone 😅 And apparently you're the only explorer who doesn't, dang look at the others go! I'm having a bit more respect for them now 😚

LOOK AT SENSEI GO FINALLY!!! 😍😍 FIGHTING SCENES HECK YES!!!

Kalmaar: I'm your conquerer

Wu: so after skeletons, the serpentine, nindroids, the Stone Army, Chen's army, ghosts, oni, more snakes but on fire and people from a game, that makes you the tenth. Have a free cookie

Kalmaar:...

Wu: you're not special

Is this a little throwback to Possession too? Nya seems to always control better water when she doesn't actually think about it. When her feelings are free, so are her powers 🌊🌊🌊

Also this opens up more possibilities! Creatures connected with other elements might get summoned too! I would love something like that 😍😍

This was NEAT, or maybe I just missed Kai that much ❤ What's next??

PAPERGIRL

ANTONIAAAAAAAA!!!! MY GIRL IS BACK!!! All my girls are back in this season, I'm so happy 😍😍😍 And if she is here, sweet little Nelson has to be around and I cannot wait! Bring in the purple ninja! 💜

Owww Antonia's last day as a papergirl? Nooo why??

She's got a job at the... DAIRY DRAGON??? OMG OMG OMG IT'S THE ICE CREAM PLACE BRAGI TOLD US ABOUT ON TWITTER!!! 🤩🤩🤩 I remember the post, he was asking about names for the place and ice cream flavors. Now I can't wait to see what did he choose 🍦🍦🍦

UNAGAMI BABY HI HONEY!!! 🙋‍♀️ I hope he's doing great 😘😘

This is so cool honestly, Antonia got her own character arc going on! Living in a chaotic city like Ninjago City must be pretty dang exhausting 😅

Was... was that Dareth in the garbage can? Am I wrong? Poor brown ninja 😅🤎😅

SPINJITZU SWIRL, BANANAKHAN, ORANGE SERPENTINE, I'M DYING 😂😂😂

Their friendship is so wholesome, I'm so happy they are still together no matter what happens 💕

I thought Kalmaar wasn't much of a fighter but DANG he's got skills! Also the fact that he uses tentacles makes the fight very cool to watch! 😚😚

RAY RUNNING IN AFTER KAI GOT HURT HECK YES ❤❤❤

Well at least you tried Ray 😅

Ah, little cameo of the original Weekend Whip, always nice to hear it again... AND DO THE WEEKEND WHIP!!! 🌪🌪🌪

EVEN NELSON GOT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT I'M SO PROUD 💜

I don't even know what is cooler, the kids being mad lads on their bikes, Kalmaar driving a TRUCK or Kai going full parkour on the buildings to follow them 🤯

I'm sorry... am I the only one that during the Kai and Kalmaar talk kinda thought of Jestro and Clay? I miss my boys from NK, they're even more at odds now 😭😭

KAI YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE OR EVEN TRY TO DIE GET BACK HERE AT ONCE 😱😱

Kalmaar just loves to make everyone feel inferior, gotta be his hobby 😶

Oh good Kai is back

OH NOT GOOD KAI IS NOT BREATHING?!? FLAME BABE I TOLD YOU YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE 😱😱😱

Antonia, Nelson, you guys are now my heroes. You saved my fave, I'll be forever in dept with you ❤❤❤ Am I being overdramatic? Most likely, but Kai is one of the few that didn't almost die or did die in a dramatic situation and he is also my absolute favorite character so that... kinda keeps my sanity in check in this show 🥴

I wonder... does he still not know how to swim? He saved Lloyd in Possession but I wonder if he was only trying to float on the surface... THAT'S TERRIFYING

This episode was so adorable, I love Antonia and Nelson so much 💜💕💜💕 It's nice to see what the other people of Ninjago do while everything goes mad 🤣

Wait hang on my Ninjajan is a little rusty

"Ninjago City. City that never sleeps" well if that ain't the truth 😂

MASTER OF THE SEA

Like Master of the Mountain? Wait are we going back to Shintaro?? VANYA?? ANOTHER BEST GIRL RETURNS??? 💛

Hey hey hey, we got a full Nyad backstory! I really like when they do these little drawn shots, they feel more like legends! And... the ending sounds terrifying? Like, they wouldn't let Nya sacrifice herself and die... again... right? 😱

Bentho: and the world was in balance, until now because of my brother

Lloyd: and the Overlord before of course

Bentho: the what now?

Lloyd: the evil one my grandpa the first Spinjitzu Master fought?

Bentho: YOUR WHAT NOW

Why do I like this offscreen "hiiiyaaa" that sensei Wu does before actually going into the scene? 😂😂

No matter if they come from the underground or the sea, these are all snake-like creature with the same intellect 😅 Kalmaar and Garmadon would have a lot to talk about, sea king dealing with his minions does remind me of Lord Garmadon in season 2 a lot 😂😂

KAI AND RAY FIGHTING TOGETHER KAI AND RAY FIGHTING TOGETHER ❤🔥❤🔥❤🔥❤🔥❤

OMG Kalmaar is such a brat and petty villain I love him so much 😂😂😂 Yes I didn't even mention his amazing voice!... AH DANG IT 😳😳

*Misako kicks Kalmaar and is actually useful* 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️

*Misako gets taken as hostage immediately after* 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

KAI LITERALLY JUST GOT SAVED FROM DROWNING WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO HIM!!!... and Ray and Cole and Wu of course, I care okay 😅

OMG that face 🤣🤣🤣

That some meme material right there

Whoa Vincent that voice just got super up when the Unsinkable showed up, it kinda sounded like Jay's lol

NO NOT BENTHO!!! 😢😢😢

Kai: Nya talks to whales now? (I snorted so hard at this 😂😂)

HECK YES NYA GOT THE AMULET!! 😍😍😍 ... we got, like, four more episodes to go so something needs to happen in between... do I need to be scared? I feel like I need to be scared 😅

Jay starting a fire then blaming Kai?... this is so in character I got chills 😂😂

SHARK BOY IS STAYING TO THE MONASTERY THIS IS SO PRECIOUS!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 I want all the shenanigans and we need to write fanfictions about more shenanigans and AAAAHHHHH 🦈🦈🦈

Bless these two fire idiots

They own my heart ❤🔥❤🔥 Also Vincent, this is supposed to be a fun little gag moment, your amazing voice acting is kinda distracting me 😭😭😭

ANOTHER LEGO HUG

YOU GUYS ARE SPOILING ME OVER HERE HECK YES 💙🌊💙🌊

Maya learned that her daughter is capable of everything, I love that. Nya simply understood that she doesn't have to give up when something gets difficult. She is AMAZING and can do anything she puts her mind into. She simply has to hold on until the end 💪💪💪

Omg Benthomaar playing billiard with the guys I already love this 😍😍

YES IT IS SHINTARO!!! THE UPPLY ARE HERE OMG!!! HI VANYA YOU LOOK AMAZING GIRL MISS YOU I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OKAY!!! 💛💛💛 ... I just really like Master of the Mountain okay 😅

I love how Vanya doesn't even question it. It comes from Cole and he said it needs to be protected? Done and done 👌

Wait what, did something fall?

IS THAT THE FAKE?!?!? WHAT HOW WHEN??? UNCLE POWERS??? OR KALMAAR DID SOMETHING??? SOMEONE??? I'M LEGIT CONFUSED AND EXCITED??? 🤯🤯🤯

Well dang, I didn't see that coming, now what Seabound? What do you have for me?

[phoenix-downer]

Autumn Mending Chapter 3: Firelight Confessions

~1650 words. Romance, Angst, Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Comfort, Healing, Making Up. For SoKai Day 2021.

Sequel to Kisses and Lies because I couldn’t just leave Sora and Kairi hanging, now could I?

Happy SoKai Day!

Summary: Sora and Kairi are still broken up, but with the help of old friends and Twilight Town’s fall festival, the spark between them just might be rekindled.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Sora felt lightheaded from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside his heart. So much had happened today. Kairi had shown up here on Twilight Town and had apologized for breaking up with him. Was it possible she still loved him? That she still cared? 

The way he kept catching her looking at him sure made it seem like she did. And now this hayride. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted her to be snuggled up next to him, holding his hand, for the rest of his life. 

But while his heart and body cried out for joy and begged him to be closer to the one he loved, his brain was yelling at him to put on the brakes, to slow down, to be cautious. What about that guy he’d seen her with? What about the past year and a half of anguish and torment? Could all of that really be forgotten in a single day? 

He wanted to forget. He wanted to put it all behind them. He wanted to forgive and move on and mend things with her. Even if it meant risking getting hurt again. The chance of being with her for good was worth it.

So all that kept his mind occupied to the point he was barely listening to the ghost stories. Before he knew it, the hayride was over and it was time to pile out of the wagon. A pang went through him when Kairi had to let go of his hand, and he wondered if she was as starved for his touch as he was for hers.

Hopefully they’d get to talk about it soon. Hayner, Pence, and Olette had rented one of the campfires nearby for the evening, and that was enough to temporarily distract him. Their little group spent the next couple of hours hanging out, cooking hot dogs and roasting apples and making s’mores. Sora loved sitting by the crackling campfire and spending time with his friends, but as the minutes ticked by, his eyes kept wandering to Kairi. She was seated across from him, and she looked really beautiful in the flickering firelight. Their eyes met, and she smiled and looked at him the way she always used to look at him. 

“Oh gosh, I almost forgot!” Olette said, clasping her hands together. “Our pumpkins! We should grab them so we can light the tea candles in them.” She stood and stretched. “Hayner, Pence, come with me so we can grab everyone’s pumpkins and bring them back.” 

Hayner and Pence finally got the hint and followed after Olette, leaving Sora and Kairi alone. He stood under the pretense of roasting another marshmallow, but really, he just wanted an excuse to sit next to her. He loved being close to her, and her natural scent mingled with the campfire’s smell in a way that reminded him of all the times they’d gone camping as kids back home. 

“The embers are best here,” he said to explain his sudden change in position, and she smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Oh are they now.” 

“Yeah.” A few seconds passed, and he added, “Listen, Kairi, about earlier—”

“I’m still in love with you,” she blurted out, and he dropped the marshmallow and stake into the fire. Didn’t even care about them anymore. Something far more important was at stake here. 

“But—I saw you, with that guy—It’s why I left again—”

Kairi shook her head, and her eyes watered. “After our mission, I was hoping you and I could work things out, but I felt like you were avoiding me. I figured you didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t blame you. So when that guy asked me out, I thought, why not give it a shot. Why not try to move on and give you your space. But then he tried to kiss me, and I just… I couldn’t.” Her voice broke and she was crying in earnest now. “All I could think about was you,” she sobbed. “How badly you’d be hurt if you knew. How wonderful it feels when you kiss me. And I knew I was still in love with you. I knew my heart would always be yours. I knew it was pointless to try to move on.” 

Sora stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Kairi still loved him? Kairi still wanted to be with him? That guy he saw her with was nothing more than a quick fling that made her realize the one she truly wanted to be with was him? 

She wiped her teary eyes. “Say something, please.” 

He gently caught her hand and tugged it away from her face. She searched his eyes, and he smiled and cupped her cheek. 

“I love you too, Kairi,” he said, softly, tenderly, then brought his lips to hers. He kissed her with all the pain and homesickness he’d felt the past year and a half, all the pining and aching and longing, hoping she’d realize just how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her. And she kissed him back, so unguarded and wild and joyful that his pain started to fade away. What had happened couldn’t be undone, but it could be mended and healed, could be turned into something beautiful and good, could become another part of their love story. 

When it was over, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She leaned against his heart and gently touched where his scar was hidden under several layers of clothes. She knew it so well that she didn’t even have to look to know where it was. And he didn’t have to look to know where Xehanort had struck her down either; his hands had held the very spot countless times before and remembered exactly how to comfort her.

“I love you,” he said, his voice full of emotion. 

“I love you too.”  

He kissed her head and stroked her hair. “I’m gonna make you a new promise,” he said. “You mean everything to me, and I want to settle down with you, get married, start a family. The past several years, I’ve been saving up munny so we can do just that. Maybe we should go to college first though, that would probably be good. We’ve gotta provide for our family and for each other somehow. And I know it’ll be an adjustment for me. I’m not naive enough to think it won’t be. But you’re more than worth it.”

She sniffled and clutched his hoodie. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

“It’s okay. You had a lot of reasons to be concerned. I’ve left you behind too many times before.” 

“But you always come back to me,” she said as she looked up and searched his eyes. 

“That’s right. I made you a promise, to always return.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. 

She teared up again and curled his fingers around it. “Keep it till we get home. For good, I mean. Then, and only then, will I take it back.” 

“Deal.” 

He tucked it back into his pocket and held her and kissed her and comforted her. He shared his hoodie with her too because even with the campfire nearby, she was getting a little cold. Plus it was just nice to be this close to her. He’d missed her, so much. And something about the fire was cozy and calming and enchanting. He could hold her like this and stare into it forever. 

Well, until Hayner, Pence, and Olette returned with the pumpkins. They had big smiles on their faces, and Olette told them to close their eyes. Sora heard the lighter flicking a couple of times as their friends lit the pumpkins, and then when he and Kairi opened their eyes, he could see why Olette had wanted this to be a big surprise. 

Kairi had carved the same drawing of him that she’d drawn in the Secret Place when they were kids, complete with the paopu fruit she’d added to it years later. It matched perfectly with his pumpkin because he’d carved the drawing he’d made of her with the paopu fruit too. A big smile lit up her face as she saw the two pumpkins side-by-side, and he grinned and kissed her cheek, only for her to kiss him properly on the lips. There was much whooping and hollering from Hayner, Pence, and Olette, much to he and Kairi’s amusement. 

“Operation-get-the-lovebirds-back-together is a success!” Hayner crowed, high-fiving Pence. 

Sora raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you guys planned this?” 

“Maybe,” Olette said with a teasing lilt to her voice, and Hayner and Pence both had triumphant smirks on their faces. 

“I can believe you did,” Sora said to Olette, “but these two interrupted Kairi and I so much tonight I was convinced they were trying to keep us apart,” he finished, jabbing his finger at Hayner and Pence.

“Reverse psychology, it works wonders,” Pence said. “We figured it would get you more desperate to talk to each other.” 

“I guess it worked then,” Sora said wryly. “Because as great as that hayride was, it was not worth all the interruptions.” 

Hayner, Pence, and Olette laughed, and Kairi giggled and nuzzled his cheek. Sora soon joined in with the merriment. He couldn’t hold the scheming against his friends, especially because it had worked. He and Kairi were together again, and while it would take time to mend all the hurt between them and forge a path forward, he knew they would. Tonight was a good start, and he was determined to make this work and so was she. 

When their eyes met, he knew something else, too. He loved her and she loved him, and that was more than enough for them to make their own storybook ending and happily-ever-after.

~~~

A/N: Last year I wrote nine kiss prompts for SoKai based on this list, and I wanted to write one more to hit ten, so, this story fits... 

11. ...in joy, 

30. ...as comfort, and 

50. ...out of love.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Ghosts

I initially had the idea to do this fic a while ago, even before I started writing my first Super Mario fic. I finally got around to it for Halloween after being reminded of the idea via coming across a fanart piece that depicted a similar idea. I'd link it because it's sort of fic inspiration but it's buried deep in the Bowuigi tag on Tumblr and in the reblogs on my main blog.

~

Of course the hotel was haunted, why wouldn’t it be? Just when he thought he was finally free of having to deal with ghosts, this had to happen. Finding the Poltergust in the garage – indicating E. Gadd was here somewhere too, probably trapped in a portrait – was a sheer stroke of luck because Luigi had neglected to bring his own ghost hunting equipment. This one was the new model E. Gadd had been telling him about too which was neat expect for the fact that he now had to use it to deal with a hotel full of ghosts.

Before getting to that though, he glanced around the garage one last time to make sure he was alone before pulling out his phone. He needed to call Bowser, tell him not to come day after tomorrow after all. They’d been planning to have him show up at the hotel a couple days later and then finally reveal their relationship to Mario and Peach because away from home while on vacation when everyone was already in a good mood seemed like a good place to do that. But ghosts had happened instead so it’d have to wait.

Though it wasn’t super late into the night yet, hopefully Bowser would already be sleeping so Luigi could just leave a message. There was a very real chance Bowser would want to come anyway to punch the ghosts over their plans being ruined and only get himself in trouble. Luigi would rather not have to try to dissuade him from that so… He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said. “Aren’t you normally in bed by now?”

“Uh… yeah but um… well turns out the hotel’s haunted, it was a trap from King Boo. He uh… yeah, stuff happened and I have to deal with it.” He needed to save Mario and Peach, the Toads too. “So, you probably shouldn’t come after all. We’ll have to tell them… later.” Both of them had kept finding reasons to put it off, figures after finally committing to a plan something would go wrong with it.

“He got Mario again, didn’t he?”

“Yep and Peach and the Toads and probably E. Gadd too, since his car is here but he’s not.”

Bowser grunted. “How does King Boo keep beating Mario when I never could?”

“Please not now.” Mario was in danger; Luigi didn’t want to hear about Bowser’s rivalry with him when that was a thing.

“Oh uh… all right, sorry. You okay?” All the gruff bravado was gone from Bowser’s voice now. Instead he sounded concerned which meant Luigi’s plea had been filled with more desperation than he’d intended.

“No, not really.” How could he be in this situation? What if he couldn’t beat King Boo this time? Or what if… King Boo took it further and killed Mario before Luigi could get there to even try to save him?

“Right, you’re afraid of ghosts, huh?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t be anymore.” He’d dealt with two full hauntings and captured King Boo twice as well so logically he shouldn’t be afraid anymore but alas, his fear had never been rooted in anything logical. “But… they’re still scary.” He leaned against E. Gadd’s car, holding back a grown. This ‘adventure’ had only just started and he was already tired.

“All righty then,” Bowser said as if reaching some kind of decision. “I’ll go over and beat the ghosts up for you. Except me in however long it takes my fastest air ship to get there.”

“What? No, no, no, you don’t need to come down here. I can handle it on my own.” It was too late though; the line was dead.

Luigi groaned as he flipped his phone closed to slip back into his pockets. Now he had to save his brother and friends and watch out for when Bowser arrived to hopefully make sure King Boo didn’t get him too. Could the night get any worse?

***

The hotel was rather drab looking in the dark of night, there wasn’t a light on anywhere inside it. It had looked much better in the brochures so it was a disappointment all around. Vacation wasn’t what Bowser was here for though so whatever. Maybe a dark hotel would serve as a good arena to beat up some ghosts and King Boo though.

Mario was going to be so shocked when he saw it was Bowser who’d save him this time. That would count as finally besting him too, right? Defeating the person who’d defeated him was basically a victory over both of them, right? So, this was going to be a fun outing after all.

With a signal from him, the ship flew in closer to hover over the roof. “Circle at a distance until I call you back,” he instructed the shy guy at the wheel before vaulting over the edge. In hindsight, even with how much it would’ve slowed down the ship, he probably should’ve brought in a troop of minions for backup but he’d been in such a hurry and hadn’t wanted to wait for an entire troop to get ready to broad it and now it was too late. Whatever though, he could handle King Boo and his tiny boos by himself.

He landed on the hotel’s roof with a thud, the tiles cracking beneath his weight. Glancing around he was disappointed to see that the roof was empty. What his exact plan was, he had no idea but he didn’t a plan, he’d just wing it like he normally did and it should be fine.

The roof was pretty barren and thus it didn’t take him long to locate a possible way down so he could enter in properly through a window or something. Before he could start to descend though…

“Why are you here?”

He snapped around to see King Boo had come out of seemingly nowhere. He was holding a portrait of Princess Peach, which knowing King Boo’s powerset, meant it probably was her. Bowser had given up courting her a long time ago and had only continued to kidnap her to lure Mario in for another rematch. He no longer even did that because Luigi had decided to convince him not to which had ultimately resulted in their current relationship. But it still made him mad because if anyone was going to capture her, it should’ve been him. He at least treated her right, the way a princess should be treated, not trapping her in a portrait. So…

“I’m here to kick your ass,” he said with a slight growl as he balled up his hands into fists. He would’ve preferred to start with a blast of fire but he wasn’t sure how flammable Peach’s portrait was and he wasn’t going to risk damaging it and possibly her.

King Boo raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You’ll make a nice portrait so sure, I won’t question my good fortune, let’s fight.”

Bowser lunged at him even before finished speaking, intending to grab and rip Peach’s portrait out of his hands. But King Boo floated higher, dodging with seemingly little effort. And he was out of Bowser’s range completely, such bullshit.

With a flash of light from King Boo’s crown, there was suddenly an empty portrait floating beside him. “Sorry this isn’t much of a fight, I got stuff to do,” he said as it starting glowing, pulling Bowser in.

Like hell was he gonna be turned into wall art. He’d blast the damn thing to bits with fire and then…

��-

Next thing he knew, he was indoors and looking down at Luigi instead of up at King Boo. It felt kind of like waking up after a too long nap. He breathed out the breath he’d been taking, releasing a puff of smoke instead of the mighty blast of fire he’d intended it to be. He glanced around at the room, it seemed to be an office of some sort. “What happened? Where am I?” he said as he looked back down.

Luigi looked tired but otherwise mostly fine. He had the Poltergust on his back but a different model than the one he’d shown Bowser. This one had a clear tank with something green inside it. “You were captured by King Boo and turned into a portrait,” he said. “Why did you have come? I tried to tell you not to.”

“Because I wanted to.” Bowser always did whatever he wanted.

“Yeah but why?”

“You’re scared of ghosts, I wanted to beat them up for you.” And he still would, he just had to try a little harder. There were few problems that couldn’t be solved with a good punch and/or blast of fire.

“Oh uh… thanks for the thought.” The slight blush on Luigi’s face as he lifted his free hand to rub the back of his neck was cute and made look slightly less tired. “But I um… I’m fine. I can handle it by myself.”

Bowser sighed as he crossed his arms. He wasn’t too good at reading other people’s emotions but… “You don’t seem fine.”

Luigi deflated a little, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s scary and I’m tired and… scared and stuff. Gotta save my bro though so…” he trialed off with a shrug. “You should probably go the garage but uh… I’m not sure how I’m going to explain your presence to E. Gadd and the Toads, that’s going to be awkward but I’m not sure where else would be safe.”

“Fuck that, it’s personal now, I’m going to beat up King Boo.” No way would Bowser ever stand for such a humiliating defeat. So he turned to march out the room.

Before he could take more a few steps though Luigi grabbed his arm pulling him back. Bowser could easily just drag him along or pick up and carry him with him or even just shake him off entirely but didn’t.

“You can’t,” Luigi said. “He’ll just turn you into a portrait again so… please don’t. I already have to save Mario and Peach, I don’t want to have to save you again too.” He sounded desperate and scared and… it made Bowser feel bad. “So just… let me do it.”

“You’re scared of ghosts though.” So he shouldn’t even want to do this.

“Yeah but… you need special equipment for hunting ghosts and… I’ve never lost to them so… I can handle it.” He was full on hugging Bower’s arm now, making it even harder to pull away.

Bowser could only sigh at that. “All right, fine, I’ll just help you then.” He could do that much at least. “I’m not letting that bastard get away with beating me so easily and I’m not letting you face the ghosts on your own when you’re so scared of them. And there’s nothing you can do to convince me to hide in some stupid safe place instead.”

Luigi looked like he wanted to protest but sighed instead as he rested the side of his face against Bowser’s upper arm. “Okay, that works, I guess. It’s… kind of nice to have some company anyway I suppose, it gets kind of lonely sometimes.”

Bowser grunted instead of trying to come up with a reply because he wasn’t sure how to. “Let’s go,” he said instead, gesturing towards the rooms exit. He wanted to see how Luigi fought ghosts, he’d been curios about what that was like ever since Luigi had told him about it. “I can’t wait to see the look on Mario’s face when I help save him.”

Luigi chuckled nervously. “That’s uh… certainly going to be an interesting meeting.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

one day, a horn grew from my head (part one)

Beetlejuice, but BJ is more visibly demonic, there’s world building for the Netherworld, and he has a partner helping him...

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

- the whole being dead thing! -

A blue truck rattled up the gravel path, racing to beat the storm beginning to brew up in the sky. Rain was already starting to come down, drizzling over the clouds of dust kicked up by the tires. The headlights shone on the wall of an old house in the distance. From the darkness of the surrounding greenery, sharp teeth spread in a wide grin.

  “It’s almost time,” said the demon. “Took ‘em long enough. I thought he’d never get back.”

There was stirring at his side. He lightly whacked the figure next to him. His suit was sopped with rainwater, making the sleeves dangly and heavy as they hung around his wrists. It was odd to be in such merciless weather after having to deal with the acid rain back down in the Netherworld. Sometimes he couldn’t help but turn his head up to the downpour and let it run over his face in refreshing waves of coolness without it feeling like his flesh was melting off of his skull.

When his partner didn’t get up, he lightly poked her in the ribs with a claw. She squealed.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s time to wake up.”

The mud-slathered, blood-stained young demon sat up straight from her curled position against his side. She blinked, and the moonlight caught on her bright hazel eyes, making them glow.

  “He’s here,” the larger demon pointed a black-clawed finger at the parked truck and the figure walking to the front door.

The smaller demon flicked her comically large pointy ears at the vehicle, then looked back up at him, eyes shining. A moth landed on one of her horn nubs.

The larger of the two smirked again, alligator teeth flashing. “It’s showtime, kid. Let’s put this plan into action.”

  “So, crazy story,” Adam began, taking off his rain-spattered coat. “I got all the way to Howard’s store, and Howard tells me they’re all out of stock.”

  “Oh no,” Barbara vocalized her dismay.

  “But I asked Howard Junior to check the back for me--”

  “Smart.”

  “--so he sends little Howard the Third and long story short, I got the last bottle of Manchurian tung oil!”

  “That’s great!” Barbara beamed. “Now you can finally finish the crib?”

  “Yup!” Adam said, ripping off the cloth of a shiny, wood-carved crib. It was his pride and joy in a strange sort of woodworking way. “It should be ready before the O'Brien’s baby gets here!”

  “She had it yesterday.”

Adam blinked. “Oh. Well--” He fumbled for just a moment. “Doesn’t matter! They’ll get it soon! They can put the baby in the…sink…in the meantime!”

Barbara laughed. It was a sweet, high sound that made Adam’s heart flutter.

  “That’s definitely a place to put a newborn,” Barbara said.

  “It’s round!” Adam said. “It can hold an infant. Plus, it doubles as a bathtub, so you can kill two birds with one stone!”

Barbara chuckled. She was shining one of her newest pottery jugs- her latest hobby. Last week it was painting. The week before that it was embroidery. And the week before that it was composting. He wondered how long this interest would last.

As Adam was shining one of the bars of the crib, rubbing his thumb over the pristine wood, he said, “Maybe we can keep it for ourselves.”

Barbara dropped her jug and it shattered into a thousand orange shards. Adam jumped, nearly ripping the bar right off of the crib. He stood up quickly.

  “Are you alright?” he sputtered.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Barbara said, haphazardly rushing for the broom. She began sweeping up the broken pieces of clay, then peered over at Adam. “What would we use a crib for?”

  “You know…” Adam gestured vaguely.

  “A baby,” Barbara smiled softly.

Adam smiled, too. “Yeah.”

  “I mean…we do have this whole house,” Barbara said.

  “It is a big house,” Adam nodded.

  “And we already have a minivan.”

  “A minivan is a family car.”

They smiled dreamily, imagining what it would be like to have a baby in their household, babbling adorably, snoozing in their arms, calling them “mama” and “dada”, having toys everywhere, getting in danger as they crawled around, crying, hating them when they grew up… 

Adam swallowed thickly. He shifted, and the floorboards creaked below him. “Oh!” He pointed to the ground. “But-- but the floor! Listen to this creaking!” He stepped, and it creaked again, perfectly on time. “We can’t have a family with floors like this! It can be a safety hazard!”

Barbara nodded energetically. She put the broom away and began walking over. “You are absolutely right! Someone could get hurt!”

  “Yeah! And we don’t want that to happen!”

  “Not at all!”

  “We have to do something about it before we have our own baby.”

  “Among other things. We have to baby proof this whole house!”

  “Yes! Great idea! We should get on that as soon as possible!”

  “You’re so right! As soon as possible! So we can get on that baby right away afterw--”

There was then an awful shriek, and Adam realized it came from below as the wood seemed to fold inwards, dropping he and his wife into the darkness below the house. The last thing he remembered was Barbara’s horrific screaming, and then something cold and hard smacking into the back of his skull… 

…and far above, in the light of the house, two heads peered into the hole, one with spiky lime green hair and the other wearing a red and black helmet.

  “Damn,” Beetlejuice said. “I knew they were going to die, but that was quite the fall.” He stood up straight. “Eh. Still a better death than others I’ve seen. At least their bodies will still be intact. Them being cut in half would make things WAY harder.”

The Jockey nodded at his side. She was leaning treacherously into the hole, so Beetlejuice grabbed her by the back of the helmet to keep her from falling in. He tugged her backwards. 

  “They’ll get up soon,” Beetlejuice said. “So we gotta get ready. Prepare. Where’s the book?”

The Jockey looked around mutely. Beetlejuice learned rather quickly that she wasn’t much of a talker. He had never actually heard her voice before so he didn’t know if she even  could talk, though she did nod when he asked if she could. Whether that was the truth or a lie to save face, he didn’t know, but he didn’t really care because they communicated together rather fine. It was quite a bit easier than he was expecting once he had all of her mannerisms down.

  “It’ll show up eventually,” Beetlejuice said, checking the watch he didn’t have. His sleeves were still dripping with rainwater. “In the meantime,” he gazed around the house. “Pretty big place they got here. And for only two people?”

The Jockey pointed to the crib.

  “Right. They  had been discussing starting their own family,” Beetlejuice nodded. He glanced back into the hole for a moment. The two bodies at the bottom were still in the same position as they had been a minute ago, but the pool of blood gathering around their heads had grown slightly larger. Their lights were definitely knocked out cold. “Hopefully the woman hadn’t actually been pregnant. Nobody likes ghost fetuses. They’re so weird. All crawly and goopy and malformed…” He shuddered.

The Jockey laughed. She was capable of making noises, just didn’t like talking for reasons Beetlejuice still didn’t know.

  “What about you? Did you have a house like this? Big? Small? Rich? Poor?”

She looked over at him, flicking one of her ears. She was quiet, as usual.

  “I only ask because my housing unit back in the Netherworld was terrible,” Beetlejuice said. “I was once chained in this abyss for, like, a hundred years. It was the worst. Really makes you miss normal houses, doesn’t it?”

The Jockey nodded faintly, her lips pursed, eyebrows knitted together as she stared at him.

There was suddenly a  thump  as a thick book appeared out of seemingly nowhere, crashing to the ground on a rather ugly green and brown carpet. Beetlejuice picked it up.

  “The rulebook,” he presented it to his partner. “Let’s see…” He flipped open to the first few pages and began reading,  “The Handbook For The Recently Deceased. Chapter One: The Netherworld. All ghosts should proceed directly to the Netherworld.” He closed it abruptly. “But that isn’t gonna happen! These lovebirds need to stay here with us and haunt their house!”

He thrusted out a hand and the fireplace roared to life, crackling with bright orange flames. The Jockey leapt around to it, the glow making her eyes shine. She followed him over to the mantle as he carelessly threw the handbook into the inferno.

  “Whoops!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “Damn. There goes the book. Now they’ll never get to the Netherworld.”

The Jockey tittered softly. At the same time, there was the sound of shifting from within the hole.

  “Barbara…? Are you alright?”

  “Oh crap!” Beetlejuice grabbed the Jockey by the arm and yanked her behind the couch with him to hide. They both crouched low, listening as the couple crawled their way out of their tomb.

  “Holy smokes! That was some fall!”

  “I guess the floor gave out…?”

  “I didn’t think it was that weak. Are you alright, huh?”

  “I think so…”

  “Oh my god--”

  “You are like ice!”

  “You’re freezing!”

They must have discovered their body’s drop in temperature. 

  “I’ll make a… I don’t remember making a fire…”

The Jockey’s gaze shot over to Beetlejuice. He shrugged.

  “Had to destroy the book somehow, kid,” he whispered.

  “That’s so weird. It’s not hot…”

  “I think we should consider ourselves lucky. A fall like that could have been bad. I mean, my whole life flashed before my eyes like it does in the movies. I started asking myself the big questions, like… Why are our bodies still in the basement?”

  “What did you say?”

The Jockey grimaced behind the couch.

The couple then began screaming, though Beetlejuice didn’t exactly know why. He couldn’t risk blowing his cover just yet to check.

  “Adam! I don’t think we survived that fall!”

  “…What? You mean… Oh god.”

  “Here we go, kid,” Beetlejuice whispered to the Jockey. “It’s our time to shine.”

  “I know… I know. There’s still so much I wanted to do.”

  “I know, me too, but-- Hey, hey. We’re still together, right? We’re still in our house, all of our stuff is here! So what if we are…dead… That’s bad, obviously, but hey! Maybe nothing has to change!”  

Just then, Beetlejuice and the Jockey popped up from behind the couch. 

  “Hi.”

The Jockey waved.

Barbara and Adam whirled around to them. They all stared at each other in a beat of silence. Beetlejuice held up his hands.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said. His sharp black claws didn’t help the statement very much. “You are dead. I am also dead.” He pointed to the Jockey. “So is she. Maybe we can help each other out. What’s up?”

The Maitlands screamed and scrambled away as he advanced over to them with his hand outstretched. He backpedaled in reaction, pointy ears shooting up. He had  not been expecting them to act like that. Good thing he had a child with him.

  “Work your magic, kid,” he said to the Jockey.

The Jockey did as she was told, slowly walking over to the Maitlands with her hands up, palms out, claws visible, as if she were approaching a pair of spooked horses. The Maitlands seemed to relax slightly in the midst of the young girl, but then got weirdly defensive looks on their face. They bustled around her, forming a barrier of sorts between her and Beetlejuice. She blinked over their guard.

  “Hey!” Beetlejuice yelped. “That’s my jockey!”

  “Who the hell are you?!” Adam yelled. 

  “Help! I am help!” Beetlejuice said. “I’m here to help you both! And so is she! So can I have her back now? Pretty sure we have a whole codependent, separation anxiety thing going on here.”

Barbara peered at the small form of the Jockey, then at Beetlejuice protectively, not budging. “Are you her father?”

  “What? No!” 

Adam’s eyes somehow got even wider than they already were. “Did you kidnap her?!”

  “How did you even come to that conclusion?”

But Adam and Barbara were already wrapped up in the theory, becoming even more fierce and protective around the Jockey. Not that they were very intimidating. They had about the menace of a pair of pomeranians, and even that was being generous. 

  “You’re not laying another finger on her!” Adam yelled.

  “I didn’t kidnap her!” Beetlejuice yelled back, exasperated. Hints of orange-red were beginning to flicker around the crown of his head like the first sparks of a fire. If these two newly-deads weren’t so damn attractive he probably would have clawed their faces off by now and found a new couple to get a living human to say his name.

Barbara turned to the Jockey, crouching slightly to meet her eyes beneath the rim of her helmet. “Sweetie, did this mean man take you from your parents?”

  “I didn’t take her from anyone!”

  “That sounds like something a kidnapper would say,” Adam said, narrowing his eyes at him in suspicion.

  “I’m not a kidnapper!!”

The Jockey quickly held up her hands again, shaking her head. She weaved around the protective forms of Adam and Barbara and darted over to Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his side possessively. He glared at the Maitlands for a moment before cooling off, easing his stare. The red and orange fire beginning to light through his hair went down. 

  “I did not kidnap her,” he reiterated. “She is my partner.”

Adam opened his mouth.

  “NOT LIKE THAT!” Beetlejuice cut him off before he even got the chance to say something. “Partner in business. My business partner. We work together.”

  “You work with…a child?” Barbara asked.

  “She’s more useful than half of the adults I know.”

The Jockey stood up a little straighter at that.

Adam looked Beetlejuice up and down. “You said you were here to help us…”

  “Right!” Beetlejuice perked up. “Yes! We are!”

  “Help us with what?” Barbara asked.

  “To learn how to scare!”

  “Scare? Scare who?”

  “The people who bought your house!”

At that moment, two men dressed in delivery outfits came in and began grabbing everything they saw. Barbara and Adam tried to stop them, but their yelling and waving did little to help. Beetlejuice and the Jockey watched on in amusement.

  “They can’t see us!” Adam finally exclaimed.

  “Keen observation, Adam,” Beetlejuice said. He took the crop from the Jockey’s holster and began waving it around as if he were giving a presentation. “The living ignore the dead. We are invisible to them. And they’re so wrapped up in their stupid little lives that they usually just ignore the strange and unusual unless you make them, which is why we’re here.”

  “This is all so much to take in,” Barbara said, running her fingers through her hair.

  “Hey, I get it,” Beetlejuice said. “It’s a lot, but it’s okay! You two are special! You died together! That NEVER happens! Unless it’s a murder-suicide, which makes for a VERY awkward eternity.” 

  “How did you die?” Adam asked warily.

Beetlejuice laughed. “Oh, that’s cute. I was born-dead. Never got to experience human stupidity.”

  “And her?” Adam nodded at the Jockey.

  “Horse racing accident,” Beetlejuice said. He thought it had been obvious from her muddy and bloody silks and the hoofprints branding her body. He tapped a claw on her helmet. “She doesn’t talk very much, so don’t expect an answer from her.”

  “Wait-- how can you be born dead?” Barbara blinked.

  “I’m a demon, Babs, try to keep up.”

Both Barbara and Adam’s eyes widened. Thankfully, they didn’t freak out like they did the last time.

  “You’re a WHAT?!” Adam yelped.

  “So is she!” Beetlejuice pointed to the Jockey.

  “You don’t…look like demons…” Barbara said hesitantly.

  “Well, that’s just rude,” Beetlejuice looked down at the Jockey. “I swear, Breathers read the Bible once and think all demons are the same.”

The Jockey nodded with a tiny giggle.

  “Demons aren’t exactly what you’re used to,” Beetlejuice said to the confused faces of the Maitlands. “If you weren’t already ghosts, my true form could strike you dead simply by being in your midst. I can kill a Breather with a single stare! But I appear in this form,” he gestured vaguely, “to seem less intimidating. Don’t want to scare off any potential clients.”

  “You need to work on that,” Adam said.

  “I can go more demonic whenever I want, though,” Beetlejuice went on, ignoring him. 

He then snapped his fingers and a pair of black-and-white striped horns burst out from the crown of his head. A long, arrowhead black tail slithered out from his waist as his legs painlessly bent backwards into a more hock-jointed position, large talons pressing out from his ratty shoes. The Maitlands stared in shock. The Jockey looked enraptured, her ears fluttering. 

  “Like so,” He presented himself to them. “And this isn’t even what I REALLY look like.”

The Jockey clapped energetically. Beetlejuice grinned at her toothily. 

  “I was born a demon,” Beetlejuice said, looking back at the Maitlands. “Therefore, I was born-dead. She,” he drummed on the Jockey’s helmet, “became a demon. That happens if a ghost becomes too consumed with bitterness, grief, or anger and can’t get over their deaths.”

Barbara and Adam both shot worried looks at the Jockey from the implication behind Beetlejuice’s words. Beetlejuice didn’t blame them for that one. It was uncommon for ghosts to become demons; only if their deaths were REALLY bad. And for a child to turn, no less… 

  “Anyway,” Beetlejuice continued. “There’s a lot of feuds between the two types of demons because born-demons perceive turned-demons as “falsies” or “dirty half breeds” since they used to be humans and weren’t born with their horns and whatnot.” He tapped one of the Jockey’s little horn nubs for emphasis. “It’s just this whole thing.  We get along just fine, though!”

As if to prove it, he and the Jockey smiled innocently, showing their sharp teeth. The Maitlands blinked back at them. Adam glanced over Beetlejuice’s shoulders as the movers continued to haul out furniture.

  “So you can really help us get our house back?” he asked.

  “You bet your sweet dilf ass I can!” Beetlejuice replied animatedly.

Adam’s cheeks flamed to an adorable shade of pink. Barbara looked slightly startled before barking, “There’s a child here!”

The Jockey waved a dismissive hand and mouthed,  “I’ve heard worse.” She then tugged on her filthy silks for emphasis of sorts. 

  “Please say yes!” Beetlejuice said, trying not to beg. “Nobody else can help you! We’re all you got!”

Adam and Barbara cast one more dismayed look at their departing furniture, then said, “You’re hired.”

Electric green shot through Beetlejuice’s hair like the lightning bolts during an acid storm down in the Netherworld. His tail had to be wagging at the speed of light. He shook the Jockey’s arm eagerly. 

  “They said yes!!” He yipped, and the Jockey grinned up at him gleefully. He looked at the Maitlands. “You won’t regret it!”

The Maitlands looked slightly worried. 

  “I sure hope so,” Adam muttered.

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

Jaws dripping with gore, the many-limbed, razor-clawed amalgamation towers over the smaller creature on the street, holding a heart between its teeth. The smaller creature raises its blunted, chipped, and ripped off claws in a sign of weakness, spiked tail tucked between its legs. The abomination devours its heart, then hisses in its ear, “D o n ‘ t e v e r t o u c h h e r a g a i n.”

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

Beetlejuice’s eyes popped open. He stared into the darkness all around him, thick and tall like walls of onyx. Rain was still falling outside. Normal rain. 

There was shifting at his side. The Jockey curled up tighter against his side, finding him warm despite the Dead being deathly cold. Finding his presence comforting despite him being awful.

She didn’t need to sleep, and yet she did. Perhaps to retain a shred of normalcy in her unlife. The Maitlands seemed to be the same way from the soft snoring coming from the other corner of the attic. It was too dark to see them, but they were there.

People were there. 

His tail was still out, so he draped it over the Jockey’s ankle, testing her reaction to the touch. Even in sleep, she stirred, ears flicking slightly. She slumped over completely into his lap, her head cushioned by one of her arms, pointed tongue caught between her sharp teeth. Beetlejuice snorted. He poked her helmet.

  “I don’t know how you sleep in this,” he said.

There was no answer. Even if she weren’t asleep, she wouldn’t give him one. That was okay. He didn’t mind her silence. 

[zuzu-hotman]

Ready To Love Pt.3 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst as always, loves. 

A/N: I’m glad to see the notes on my fics, I read them and smile <3 Anyways... hope I did her justice. I didn’t want to make her a villain or  too ooc. Then again, the show never gave us too much of her. I’d have done more with her and hopefully allowed her to express herself a bit too. ((Also the lyrics ive been using are from a song, but they’re out of order bc of how I want them to fit. This set is specifically tied to her, not reader))

Pt.1, Pt.2

“ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ..”

Staring blankly at the ceiling of her room is where she’d found herself stuck for hours at a time. Her face remained blank as ever but deep inside her emotions were starting to stir up. Deep inside she began to hurt- the kind of hurt that can sometimes be hard to mask or ignore.

Not that that fact stopped her from doing it. She’d be damned if she allowed herself to falter.

She hadn’t expected her words to really push him to make such a choice. To this extent of utter betrayal- if she was honest, she’s not sure what she expected. She only knew what she hoped for and she hated that she allowed herself to do something so stupid.

Hope? That’s something Ty Lee would do. She is not Ty Lee. Not by a long shot- yet she still did something so foolish. She still had hoped he’d turn around- come to his senses and realize.. realize what? Who was she to say what he should feel when she couldn’t even control what she felt? She wanted to be angry, wanted to just.. gut punch him the next time she saw him.

Sure, she’s the one that pushed him away but.. she wanted a different outcome. She just wanted... something else- but she also wanted him to not be so miserable. It was clear he wasn’t happy here. It was clear he had many regrets in regards to how he was able to come back.

She wanted him to be happy- she didn’t want to be used.

What she got in return was some stupid letter- just some dumb letter. All this time spent- all this nonsense. Years spent wishing he’d be allowed back home or that he’d at least speak to her without anyone else around and all she gets is a letter.

She gets this and what does the other girl get? Some low-class peasant not even of full Fire Nation blood? She gets to be around him- be with him if the circumstances are right.

She wants to be angry at them both- but is it right to? Is any of this right?

She continues to question herself as the time passes. Even as she gets a golden opportunity to tear right into him- to go off- to have him suffer.

“I’m sorry.”, he says, gently so. “I shouldn’t have- it was never my intention to hurt you like that. To just.. use your feelings. I thought I was where I was supposed to be.”

She makes a face, “Yeah. Your letter sounds so very sorry. You betrayed the nation for one peasant-”

“I didn’t betray my nation! I’m saving it- it’s not just about you or her and.. she’s not a peasant.”, his last words hit her harder. He didn’t say them any different. He was just quieter. Defensive. “Even if she was, it would mean that a peasant has more class than any of us.”

That stung a bit- if only because she wanted to be the one he defended so passionately. To be truly loved by him... what must that feel like.. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”, she says, “You betrayed her too. You’re just full of bad choices.”

It was a low blow and she knew it. It almost hurt her to say it but she was so angry-

“I know. I’m trying to right them. Even if I don’t get what I’m hoping for.”

“You think fixing them by hurting others is what will work? You-”

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone! I haven’t hurt anyone else back there but you and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you face to face. I’m sorry all you got was a piece of paper. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was wrong to do what I’ve done! I’ve been wrong for a long time but I’m trying! I know just apologizing isn’t enough but right now I have other things to deal with! This war is literally life or death for the whole world!”, he takes in a deep breath, “Mai. I really am sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have gone out with you when I knew deep down it wasn’t what I truly wanted. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

She had to turn away from him, to look away to readjust the mask she kept constantly. It couldn’t fall, not here and now. She’s silent for a bit before speaking again, “You better right things with her or I’ll never forgive you.”

She had said it quietly, and continued to speak it though a guard had burst through the door. She can’t be sure if he heard her or not, even though the look he gave her as he shut the door held the answer.

Mai had made her decision. It was final and clear. Enough to shock a friend she thought held her dear.

Azula was starting to derail- she couldn’t see what she was becoming.

“You miscalculated. I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

“No you miscalculated! You should have feared me more!”, she shouts, readying for an attack, “He doesn’t even love you- you dare betray me for something so shallow?! He’s all about that peasant!”

“I know. I’ll get over it eventually.”

Mai braces herself, readying a counter attack despite knowing Azula’s bending is more powerful. Azula has always been precise- she shot the Avatar down without blinking. She-

A raw gasp broke through her inner thoughts.

Ty Lee.

“C’mon we gotta get out of here!”

It was no use though. Guards surrounded them instantly. They would be prisoners for now, thrown into the farthest cell away from Azula. Mai wanted to say it hurt, crazy or not, Azula was once her friend. However Azula is not who she was. Her use of fear wasn’t right or fair.

It hurt, but not as badly as it should- at least not on her end..

Three long nights. Zuko had left for three long nights and something had told you it wasn’t for food. Deep in your gut you knew it wasn’t. He wouldn’t have looked at you like that the night before he left if it was just some trip. His absence gave you time to think. To be a bit more rational- calmer, in deciding if you even want to hear him out. He’d tried to do so a few times before he left, but in your anger you ignored him.

What if you never saw him again? What if this was just a trip, would you feel differently? Or were you looking for a reason to justify talking to him. A reason better than simply wanting to.

You couldn’t deny you were weak for him.

When he finally returned, you learned he traveled to a high security prison with Sokka. To find his Dad and within that time he’d also found his girlfriend Suki.

Something like that could not be fake- risking your own life in a high security prison- in a nation you betrayed.. for someone you’d only just grown to be friendly with?

Zuko was changing, you felt it. You had pure proof of it and oh how you begged for it to be true. To be hurt a third time? There would be no coming back from it.

“Zuko.”, you whisper while he stands off to the side.

He flinches but turns to look at you. Shock covers his face,”..yes?”

“...Let’s talk..”, you say, and finally, you reach for him. You lightly but hesitantly take his wrist. He lets you lead him to wherever you need to go.

In all the happy reunions, no one notices you two disappearing into the night.

“ Bᴇғᴏʀᴇ I ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ?”

Pt.4

[hansolmates]

junhui; you must be magical, because i've fallen under your spell

summary; there was something about gryffindors that unsettled him greatly.

pairing; slytherin!junhui x gryffindor fem!reader 

genre/warnings: hp!au, yule ball!au, fluff!! jun’s a dumb boy

w/c; 2k

a/n; if it were possible to separate the masterpiece that is harry potter and jk rowling, we would. the only jk we stan in jeon jungkook but anyway!! this fic has been sitting in my drive for 3!! years!!! enjoy this belated bday present to our favorite golden bean. enjoy! please share if you like it 

more in the SVT!hogwarts au: vernon, mingyu, jihoon 

“No.”

“C’mon. Just be my partner, it’ll be totally wicked. We’re the best dancers on the team. We can even break heteronormativity if you wanna put it that way.” 

“That’s not the point.” Minghao grumbled, throwing his dirty practice gear over his shoulder. “We told you to find a partner before the next practice. All you’ve done is complain to me about how awful everyone else is. Is there really not one girl or boy in Slytherin that you can partner up with?” 

Junhui’s bark eyes glazed lazily over the pitch, as if there would be random students just lying around during early morning practice. The weather was definitively awful today, with depressingly muted grey clouds and no trace of the sun ever grazing its presence on campus. He rocked his bat back and forth, letting it bounce on his thigh as they exited the field and neared the viaduct. “There really isn’t,” he drolled, looking disinterested, “I hate all of them.” 

“Awh c’mon, you really don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do. They’re awful.”

“But—”

“No. Please stop trying.” 

Minghao took an abrupt turn at the end of the cobblestoned viaduct, in the team room where most of the members were off to their own devices. Team Hogwarts was doing relatively well in terms of team relationships, so far there were no petty fights over house competition because their school pride against other schools was currently taking precedence. Junhui was being petty, he knew it. But his pride was his mantle, and if that couldn’t hold him together, he might as well crash and burn down the pitch. 

Minghao started to grumble unintelligibly under his breath, ripping off his blazer and shoving it to one side of his training bag. He looked visibly angry, and Junhui could understand that. Being on Team Hogwarts was stressful enough, and having a friend like him who was heatedly intolerable was just icing on the cake. 

“I know someone who can be your partner,” Minghao finally said, looking away, “She can pick up dances quickly. But you gotta promise me you’ll be nice to her.” 

“Me? Nice? I’m the nicest person you could possibly meet.” Junhui replied loftily, giving a lazy smirk as he relaxed against the bench. “I’ll treat her like a princess if she’s as good as a dancer as you claim she is.” 

“Even if she’s a Gryffindor?” 

“Even if she’s a—” his jaw dropped, and he sat straight, his aloof facade shattered just enough for him to sputter out of control. His beater’s bat slipped like butter from his grasp, causing it to echo throughout the room and multiple members to look at the pair strangely. He ignored all of them like a grain of sand. “Seriously? A Gryffindor?”

“I’m a Gryffindor. What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m saying. It’s fine if pretty boy Chwe wants to go prance around with his stuffy bookworm, that’s expected. But when was the last time you saw a Gryffindor and Slytherin kill it on the dancefloor?” 

“I’m taking a Gryffindor,” Jihoon said levelly, looking over them from the side of the bench. His posture was slumped, his hair windswept and his cheeks kissed with a strawberry red from the nippy weather. He was already in his school robes, tucking in the collar of his emerald knit so it would settle nicely. Running a hand through his sandy locks, he brushed up to them, taking no shame into walking into their conversation. 

Jihoon had a tendency to flit in and out whenever he pleased, and for whatever reason people still liked Jihoon, something that irked Junhui incessantly. But he never dared to ask, considering Jihoon’s own brand of confidence was something to be desired. “But I also like this person a lot, I don’t care that she’s a Gryffindor. So just swallow your pride and be lucky that someone is willing to help you out, especially last minute.”

“Well,” Minghao looked away sheepishly, trying to save face, “she hasn’t exactly said yes yet. I haven’t even asked her, but there’s no reason why she wouldn’t say no.” 

“Alright. Hopefully she says yes then.” Junhui finally said, giving Minghao a small smile. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving a firm squeeze. “Thank you.” 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jihoon give an inkling of a grin, before turning around and walking back. 

“Thank you for giving people a chance.” Minghao replied genuinely, squeezing Junhui’s shoulders once before changing into his own robes. 

Junhui was nervous. He was nervous and shy and worried that this was going to all be messed up and risk getting kicked off the team. Minghao told him once they entered the practice room, the Great Hall, that his partner would be a little late. It was understandable, it was a last minute thing and he could totally fault himself for that. 

He had to play it cool, he had to. He already brought himself thus far, making it onto the team, and playing it off like it was no big deal. But it was work, all of it. Even the little things like this, dancing some five minute routine for the entire campus to see. There was nothing else he could hold onto at this point, everyone else was partnered up in the room (except Mingyu Kim, but no one else seemed to notice since he was never around) and now he was just left to fidget until you showed up. 

“Where’s your partner, Junhui?” Soonyoung walked up to him, all up in his face, and Junhui fought the urge to push the co-captain back. Soonyoung was wearing Muggle athletic wear, the one with the strangely thin fabric and pants that were too loose at the top and fitted at the bottom. What did Soonyoung think they were, a Muggle boy band? “We’re about to start.” 

“Oh well, she's—”

“Here! Sorry I'm late!” your voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, padding down the linoleum like wildfire. You, a young lady in gold and red dropped her things on one of the dining tables, and surprise surprise, you were dressed exactly like Soonyoung. Your body was a blur as you ripped off your robes, revealing a complete and utter lack of clothing that had Junhui’s gaze burn scarlet. Tight black shorts that ribboned across your thighs, and a white athletic t-shirt that had the same silky material as the Gryffindor captain. 

Soonyoung’s face lit up like the morning sun, his face comparable to diamonds as you bounded  up next to him. He made a show of it, putting his thumb and forefinger together as if he were taking a photograph of the pair. “Wait, seriously?” he balked, and Junhui grew annoyed at how delighted the hyper kid was being. “Oh Junhui you have the best partner.” 

Junhui scrunched his nose, uncomfortable that Soonyoung wanted to be all chummy now that he was doing the right thing. Biting the inside of his lip, he turned to you, who offered him a small smile and an outstretch of a hand. 

He blinked. Oh, you’re gorgeous. 

And when he took her hand and gave a firm squeeze in reply, he could’ve sworn he felt you. That strange, red crackling fire that so many of them seemed to emanate like it was the newest trend, but it was all-encompassing and so definitively you, that he hated to admit he was aching for more. “I’m Junhui Wen.” he drawled, tilting his head to meet his cocoa eyes to yours. 

“I know who you are,” you replied immediately, the subtle jab in your tone pinning him to the floor like it was a glass stake. There was an energy in your gaze, the curious light that was making Junhui spellbound. “We have a bunch of classes together. Divination? Alchemy? Muggle Studies?” 

He could only stare at you, struck. His smirk from ten seconds ago descended in a downward spiral, realizing that wow, he had no comeback for that. It was downright a sin not to notice you all this time, and you were rightfully calling him out on it. Points to the Gryffindor, indeed. 

Gryffindor’s always intimidated him, a secret only a select few has picked up on. His parents were good people, always telling him that confidence is key and he should strive to be more like them. So, he tried. He’s cocky, for sure. A little shit? Definitely. But it’s different when righteousness slaps in the face, a reminder that there’s goodness in his heart and a strive to do better. 

Thankfully (the first and last time Junhui would ever be thankful to Soonyoung) practice had already started and you were late. He felt the grip of your small palm, and you smack his hand to your waist. Is it bad how much he thought how perfect it felt? How he wanted to hold you in his arms forever—

“At this rate,” you cut dryly, voice loud enough for only you two to hear, “we’ll be a centerpiece because you’re not moving a damn inch. Merlin, do you need me to lead?” 

“Oh,” it’s only then Junhui realized that his friends were dancing circles around them, and he’s messed up the formation, “sorry.” 

You two finally step into the piece, thankful that Junhui had quick reflexes. To his chagrin, you’re not too bad yourself. Despite the lightning on your tongue, you held yourself with grace, following him across the floor as if you were floating. Soonyoung was right, he did snatch up the best partner. He owes Minghao a barrel of butterbeer. 

“Hey,” you hummed, voice blending wonderfully between the enchanted piano. “Minghao told me a little about you.”

“All good things, I’m hoping.” 

You snorted, tilting your head so it brushed against his robes. “Maybe. Said that Gryffindors make you nervous.” 

He scoffed, “No, that’s not true.” 

“So, I don’t make you nervous?” 

Whether Junhui said yes or no, he knew that both answers would be wrong. He could tell how much you knew, how easy it was to rile him up. Sweat was clinging to his palms, probably hot and sticky against your thin muggle t-shirt that clings deliciously to your waist (he takes it back, he takes it back! Muggle clothing is wonderful.)

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” he murmured, leaning over your form as he lets your body relax in a dip, “it’s not gonna work.”

Instead of entertaining his sudden accusation, you grabbed his robes, pulling him even closer even though the music stopped and people are listening to Soonyoung’s instructions for next class. “Where will you be picking me up?” 

“What?” 

“For the Yule ball. Jihoon is picking his date in front of our common room. You should come too.” 

“Uh,” he completely forgot that having you as a dance partner coincided with the possibility of you being his date for the ball. He had the opportunity to be in your company for one whole night. Terror spiked in his form, because he realized that he couldn’t mess up this chance. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” he says, and you seem satisfied by his definitive answer. 

You’re still playing with the hem of his robes, tracing your fingers along the Slytherin emblem. There’s no snark, no playful banter like you were expecting when Minghao prepared you for this. You’ll have fun with him. 

“I’ll be wearing emerald, so you should think of matching my robes with yours,” and you smirk at him, tilting your head, “good thing I already know how handsome you look in green, Junnie.” 

The last of his resolve crumbled like a piss-poor treacle tart. 

Junhui’s besotted, attracted by your boldness and craving for more of your attention. The rest of your words were hazy, like he was swimming in the Gillyweed lagoon. Something about how he better not freeze up like he did before, otherwise he’d be hexed like the girl in The Red Shoes. Something about how you’re looking forward to seeing him. He’s drowned, unable to form a coherent reply when a friend comes from behind to snatch you up. They forced you to pack up so you’d get first dibs on tonight’s dinner.  

You send him a wink before you’re forced out the door, and all he could do was wave dumbly. 

“Knew you’d like her,” Minghao slid up to Junhui, punching him in the shoulder. The pain didn’t even register as Minghao continues to tease him, going so far as to pinch his golden skin. “Merlin, do you have a crush already?” he giggled, trying to shake the taller one back to reality. 

No, Junhui was bewitched.

[raineydaywrites]

miraculous ladybug taz AU anyone? (blupjeans, eventually)

Lup was sneaking down the alleyway when she saw her.

There was an older woman in the middle of the road, and she had tripped and fallen. Cars were barrelling down the road at rapid fire pace, and they didn't appear to have seen her. She was about to be hit.

She didn't waste a second on thought- she just ran, grabbing the woman and yanking her back to a safer part of the road.

"Dude, you gotta be more careful!" she said, breath coming fast from the adrenaline and the exertion and the fact that she hadn't eaten yet today.

"Thank you," the woman said, and she seemed pretty shell-shocked by what had happened. Lup hoped she understood the danger she'd been in. It might teach her to be a little more careful.

"Is there someone you can call? That was real close, and I don't like leaving somebody alone after something like that, but I gotta go," Lup said, and she started to look around nervously.

Now that the danger had passed, she was remembering all the reasons that she had been sneaking around in the first place. She felt far too conspicuous at the moment, an itchy, scared feeling crawling up her spine.

Before the woman could answer, Lup felt someone grasp her arm from behind.

She turned quickly, seeing a familiar, angry face above her, one hand tightly grasping Lup's arm and the other wrapped around Taako's collar, keeping him from getting too far away himself.

"Hi, Uncle," Lup tried to keep her smile from turning into a nervous grimace, though she knew it was a losing battle. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Taako snorted in amusement, but their uncle's face only grew angrier. Worth it.

"You're coming back. Now." The words were a growl, so irritated that Lup almost couldn't understand it.

Still, she protested, "Wait, I have to help this lady first-"

But when she turned to gesture to the woman she'd helped, she was gone. Must have noticed that some kind of drama was about to go down and booked it out of there. Smart lady, Lup thought.

"Never mind."

-

Back at the house, Lup collapsed onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. That sure hadn't gone how she'd expected it to. She didn't regret acting to save that woman, but she really wished that she could have avoided the trouble that had come with it.

Taako was currently moping elsewhere in the house, so she didn't even have the benefit of her brother at her side.

She'd originally planned to wait to go through her bag with him, but if he was going to be mopey, then he could wait. She wasn't going to let it stop her from examining her stash in more detail.

She knew what she’d grabbed, of course, vaguely. She had taken it with a purpose after all. But she hadn’t been able to take the time to really take notice of all the specifics of the stuff.

Except, when she reached inside her bag, the first thing she found was an unfamiliar little box.

She pulled it out, confused, and saw that it was a little jewelry box. When she opened it, a plain black ring was inside.

The ring was kind of cute, she thought, with a subtle pattern etched into it that resembled waves, with a blue line outlining the pattern.

But she hadn’t taken it.

Taking something like this was more Taako’s style, but he hadn’t been with her today when she went out, and he also knew better than to risk taking something unnecessary when they were in the position they were currently in.

But... there was no way that she could get this thing back wherever it had come from. There were many problems with that idea, not least of which was that she didn’t even know where it had come from in the first place.

And even if she hadn’t intended to take it, who would believe her? If she tried to return it, people would just assume that she’d gotten spooked and returned it in order to avoid getting caught and getting in trouble.

Therefore, it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep it. It was a nice ring, and there was no point to leaving it in the box forever. She’d be careful, but nobody was going to notice that she had a new plain little ring, right?

She carefully took the ring out of the box to get a better look at it, but the moment that she touched it, she felt a jolt of electricity, and as she watched, the ring- changed.

The size of the ring shifted a bit, and the blue waves disappeared, only to be replaced by a new pattern- one of flames outlined with red.

Lup’s eyes went wide with surprise. She wasn’t sure what kind of magic would cause something like that to happen- but clearly this ring was more than it appeared.

It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t put on a ring that was imbued with magic she couldn’t define, but by the time she had the thought, it was already too late. She had already begun to slip it onto her hand.

The ring was exactly the right size for her, fitting snugly but not too tight.

And at that moment, a small black blob appeared in the air before her. The blob started out formless, but within seconds, tiny limbs and ears and whiskers appeared, and the blob opened eyes it previously hadn’t possessed and looked at her.

Lup didn’t let herself shout, knowing better than to cause trouble so shortly after getting caught, but it was a close thing.

"Hey, there," the little blob said. "Name's Plagg. Who're you?"

Okay, so the blob talked. And had a name. Probably sentient then, and hopefully could answer some of the questions currently screaming through Lup's mind.

"I'm Lup," she offered, quietly. The last thing she needed was for someone to overhear her talking and come in the room to see what she was up to.

"Nice ta meet ya, Lup. Got any cheese?" Plagg asked, floating around the room curiously.

"Not on me, no," Lup said, after a moment of just watching Plagg.

He started to float toward the door.

"Got some in the kitchen?" he asked, and Lup realized where he was planning to go.

She stood up quickly, jolting over to him and grabbing him with two hands before he could leave.

"You can't go down there," she insisted.

"Ya got family? Don't worry, I know the drill. They won't see me," Plagg said, voice taking on a significantly more irritated tone.

"Uh, no offense, but why should I trust you?" Lup asked, though she did let her grip on the tiny being soften. She didn't want to hurt him.

"I'm your kwami!" Plagg said, as if that was supposed to mean something to her.

"Which means?" Lup prompted.

“Ughhhh,” Plagg let out a very long-drawn out sigh. Then he disappeared, leaving her hands to clamp together around nothing.

So. That was a thing.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I… work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 7: Crossing a Bridge

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which they are so close to home, Harry is sorry, but Y/N isn’t talking to him.

Warning: SMUT, wet Harry (this chapter came out on patreon at around the same time as the Falling mv so I would assume that Harry and I both agree that wet Harry is superior in every single universe)

Word count: 6k

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (original character: Reyna as Y/N)

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The Wind Valley was the deepest and largest valley between the North and the South. Travellers would usually choose to avoid this bad route by going through the populous towns and cities; otherwise, the only way to travel from Isolde to Theros was to cross the rope bridge spanning over the valley. It was the oldest bridge in the land built entirely of rope and thin planks of wood which were dangerously few and far between. It took a significant amount of time to cross it and could not hold more than the weight of two persons. Harry had crossed it twice, but the second time had felt no different from the first, so he feared Y/N wouldn’t dare to step on it let alone cross it with him.

They stood on the cliff, holding their breath and watching the bridge swung from side to side like it was about to flip over or just break on its own. The blustery wind was howling like a wild beast as it blew dust and dry leaves everywhere, whirling around them, creating a scene of madness as if threatening to swallow them whole. People said if you fell into the bottomless abyss below would you'd be falling straight to hell, and that thought had haunted Harry since he was a child.

He couldn’t tell Y/N that story for he didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t have to as he could already sense her fear. She chewed on her lip, her chest was heaving up and down as he reached for her hand, but her hands squeezed into fists and she pulled away quickly.

She hadn’t spoken to him since they left the cottage in the woods, and it had been three days. Three days of them acting like strangers who were forced to travel together. Never had he been in a situation where he couldn’t come up with anything to say. She only asked and answered questions when she must, and it was killing him.

“I’ll go first to make sure it’s safe, then Thunder and Lightning, and you’ll go last.”

“Why do I have to go last?” she asked him, her face contorted. He wasn’t sure if she was offended or afraid or just simply angry at him. All could be true, but he didn't dare to ask.

“If all three of us have crossed safely then you’ll be safe too,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, thinking for a moment. “Why don’t we let the horses go first? Thunder, and then Lightning, then you and me together.”

“Okay.” Harry pressed his lips into a smile which Y/N completely ignored. She turned back to Thunder, giving him a tight hug and whispering to him that everything would be okay even though Thunder seemed braver than both of them combined. Harry guessed the horse had gone through worse and this kind of danger didn’t scare him anymore, or maybe he was scared but didn’t want to let it show and make Y/N upset. It was one thing Thunder and Harry had in common. They would risk their lives for the same girl.

Thunder carefully stepped on the bridge, taking some time to make sure it was secured before he continued. He made it seem so easy and managed to get to the other side in no longer than ten minutes. Lightning, however, struggled a bit more. Harry and Y/N had to hold their breath while watching the poor horse trying to keep her balance on the wobbling bridge. Thankfully, she still got there unharmed.

“Take my hand,” Harry said, and Y/N wasted no time to intertwine her fingers with his. She clutched the strap of her satchel and gave a nod to let him know she was ready.

They started off slow with small cautious steps. She was gripping his hand, her knuckles turned white but he was too anxious to feel any pain at this point. He could have been bruised and bleeding and wouldn’t have even noticed, for one wrong step could end their lives.

As they walked, he kept reassuring her that there was nothing to be afraid of for he was never going to let her fall. It was a bold statement to make but he meant every single word. He would protect her as long as he stayed alive.

The wind had become stronger, shaking the bridge violently and they had to stop a few times to keep their balance and secure their grip. Harry’s heart skipped a beat as Y/N squeezed his fingers. She was so quiet, and although he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine what she looked like at that moment, with her cheeks flushed and skin pale from the cold and her hair blowing everywhere in the air, he thought she must look like a frightful yet beautiful mess.

“We’re almost there,” he said to her and she nodded her head, too scared to make a sound. The closer they got to the other end of the bridge, the lighter Harry’s heart felt. A smile was forming on his face when suddenly a powerful wind knocked them over. Y/N screamed as the planks beneath her feet broke and she dropped through the large gap, pulling Harry with her.

“PEACH!”

He grasped the rope with one hand, her wrist with the other, keeping them both from falling into the abyss. Her body was dangling at deadweight. She shouted his name, tears flying out from her eyes and Harry was horror-struck yet he forced himself to stay calm.

“You’re okay, Peach! I’ve got you!” He clenched his jaw, using all the strength he had left to try to pull her back up, but the wind was attacking them from all directions. Y/N was whimpering uncontrollably, her breaths busting in and out, but she kept her eyes on him and didn’t give in to gravity.

“Peach, the satchel…” he hissed, his face was red from pulling too hard. “You gotta...fuck...you gotta let it go...”

“No!”

“You have to, Peach! The gold is too heavy!”

She froze, her glassy eyes met his as her fingers tightened around the strap of the bag. He could tell there was something valuable to her in there, but the only valuable thing to him was her and he couldn’t hold onto her any longer if she kept holding onto her satchel. The veins popped up on his neck as he begged, “please, Peach...you must let it go…”

Panting, she took off the satchel with one hand and lifted it towards him. “Take it!”

“I c-can’t.” His face scrunched up as he shook his head fast. “If I took it, I’d have to let you go.”

“Just try!”

“Peach, stop being so fucking stubborn!”

Another wind struck them hard and knocked the satchel out of her hand. She gasped loudly as the satchel, the jewellery, and her crown all fell into the black eternal pit.

Harry could finally haul her back onto the bridge and hurriedly gathered her small frame into his arms. She lay her head on his chest, sobbing hysterically as he kissed her face. “You’re okay, Peach. I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go.”

“We’ve lost all the gold…” she murmured in tears as he pulled her closer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, slowly rubbing her back. “I didn’t care about the gold.”

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By sundown, Harry and Y/N had reached Vidarr River. Their shadows had faded into the blackness and the heat of the day had been replaced by the chilliness of the night. They decided to rest on the grassland by the river and save their energy to continue their journey at dawn. Y/N collected wood. Harry lit a fire. And they sat down to feast on the bread and fruits May and Mary had packed for them.

Harry kept stealing glances at the girl during the meal to study her expression and try to guess what was on her mind. She acted like the accident on the bridge had never happened, but he knew deep down she was still shaken and just didn't want to confide in him. He figured he should give her more time and space. Hopefully, she would forgive him before they parted.

“Hey.”

Her voice made him flinch. He turned around, startled to see her standing right behind him and she was quick to hold him back by the arm before he tripped over his own feet and fell into the river. Both of them laughed nervously as she let him go and he wiped his wet hands on his pants.

“H-Hey. I was just...washing my hands…”

“Yeah, I could see that.” She gave a small smile which made him rather uneasy than elated. She then pulled out a ring from the little pocket of her skirt and handed it to him, leaving him puzzled.

“What’s this?”

“For you,” she said, staring at the shiny object instead of him. “I’m sorry we’ve lost all the gold because of me, but I still have this ring so--”

“I told you the gold didn’t matter to me so...I can’t take this.” He pushed her hand away, making her frown.

“But we have made a deal,” she asserted.

“Yes.” He nodded once. “You would break me out of prison and I would help you reunite with your uncle. You’ve done your part so now I’m doing mine. I don't want your gold, Peach."

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes at his response. “You need this ring to get the best doctor for your mother, Harry. Just take it, please.”

Not giving him another chance to refuse, she put the ring in his hand and squeezed it into a fist, holding it tightly. The determination on her face amused him. He could tell she was torn between wanting to stay mad at him and wanting to be grateful to him for having saved her life. If only she knew, she had saved his life since she showed up in that dungeon.

He shook his head and gently grabbed her hand. She had such pretty and soft hands for a maid, and he would’ve joked about it had she not been mad at him. Her forehead creased as she stared dumbfoundedly at his face while he admired her fingers before sliding the ring on her middle one.

“It looks better on you,” he said. She huffed but said nothing back. That was his cue to go on. “I’m very sorry...I know you’re going to say you don’t want to hear my apology and I owe you nothing, but I know that I was wrong and--and I cannot justify what I did, so I’m not going to give you reasons, I’m just going to apologise.”

Y/N bit her lip while twisting the ring on her finger. She didn’t ask him to shut up so he let out a sigh of relief and continued right away, “I’m sorry for what happened with Mary, and I’m sorry for killing that man right in front of you. I know you were scared and you must think I’m this murderer--”

“I knew that man.”

“What?”

“I knew that man, Harry,” she said, unable to look him in the eye. “The guard that you killed, I knew him, and he knew me. He had known me since I was a baby, and that day he was going to kill me anyway. So yes, I was scared, but I wasn’t scared of you. And I certainly could not blame you or anyone but myself.”

“Peach, you’ve done nothing wrong…”

“That’s not how it feels to me.”

The corners of his lips lowered as he took a moment to think. “Was that why you considered marrying Stefan? Because it was the safer choice?"

The questions left her baffled, her mouth fell open. “How do you know about that? I never told you.”

“May and Mary did. That was why I got drunk. And when I--I thought...I thought she was you…” he faltered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wish it had been you…”

Being able to get it off his chest might have been the best feeling he’d ever known. He felt like he could finally breathe, but now he was too afraid to look up and watch her reaction. He waited for her to say something, anything at all. But it was Thunder who broke the silence by neighing loudly and pawing the ground. Harry breathed into his palms as she turned away, then he heard a gasp.

Fireflies. There were fireflies everywhere!

Hundreds of them lifted off the dewy grass, flying so slowly as if they were struggling against the weight of mist hanging heavily in the night air. They danced in a heady swarm of light like a tiny galaxy on the dark river, giving the place a buzz of excitement one could rarely witness.

Harry managed to catch a firefly and raised his glowing fists above his head, shouting with the enthusiasm of a little boy, “Peach! I caught one!”

But then he stilled as he saw her, arms spread and tip-toeing on the grass with a cloud of sparks soaring around her. She looked like a fairy stepping out of a storybook, and he couldn’t stop himself from gawking, awe transforming his face. His heart beating quickly and his cheeks turned red when they made eye contact. The fireflies parted to make way for him as he came closer.

“You caught one,” she giggled as he let the firefly go. It landed on the tip of her nose before joining the others, flying high above their heads. She kept watching them while he was watching her.

The words slipped out faster than he could think, “I would like to court you.”

She looked at him, blinking rapidly. He thought she’d missed that so he said it again, “I would like to court you...if you’d allow me. Not right now, of course. You need time to think it over and to forgive my foolish mistakes, and...and we still need to get you home to your uncle. But I don’t want to wait until we say goodbye to finally tell you this.”

She breathed out a nervous laugh, his heart pounding harder.

“Why are you talking nonsense, Harry?”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“I do! I could be uncertain about a lot of things but you are never one of them!”

Y/N huffed and turned away, but he managed to seize her wrist and held onto it even though she was scowling at him.

“Please don’t turn me down just yet. My heart would break if you said no now, but it would also break if you said yes and changed your mind tomorrow. Please wait until we get to Theros to give me your answer. Whatever you choose then, I’d be happy to accept.”

A line appeared between her brows as she took in the sight of a distressed Harry. She had never seen him like this before, and neither had he. It had come naturally with Kenny as he had always known he would fall in love and be with her when they got older. This was nothing he could have expected. And as much as it scared him, it was everything he wanted and more. After almost losing her twice, he could not waste another opportunity to tell the truth.

“Fine,” she calmly said, lifting her chin. “Now we should get some sleep.”

Harry loosened his grip and let her go back to where Thunder and Lightning were resting by the fire. It felt like their previous conversation had never happened, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. He could only hope she would still be there when he woke up in the morning.

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Harry woke up when little droplets alighted on his skin. The morning was dark and overcast. Black clouds sprawled across the sky, draining colours from the trees, as the air grew heavier and the humidity pressed down, suffocating. The horses were still there but Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He frantically got up and looked around, wondering where she could have possibly gone. He had to find her in case she couldn’t get back before it rained.

He called out her name and wandered along the riverbank until he found one of her shoes lying near the edge of the water. His face turned ashen. Without a second thought, he dropped his coat and dived headfirst into the black water, just as Y/N appeared from the trees, frozen in shock.

“Harry!” she shouted and sprinted towards the river. “Harry, oh God! Harry!”

It wasn’t until she jumped into the deep end that she remembered she couldn’t swim. The currents pushed her down. The more desperately she moved her limbs, the faster she sank, and as her heart started beating frantically, images of the first time she almost drowned in the same river flashed through her mind in a split second. That was when Harry grabbed her and towed her back to the surface. She coughed into his chest as he lay her on the grass, mumbling “you’re okay, Peach, you’re okay” until she regained awareness and finally opened her eyes.

A stillness fell over the forest, and in the silence came a low crackle of thunder. Everything stopped for a moment. A silvery streak split the grey sky in half, and the downpour began. Harry picked up Y/N's shoe and carried her to the nearest tree, and they sat under it to take shelter from the rain. She was still trembling and clinging onto him, so he stayed still until she was calm enough to loosen her grip and look up to meet his gentle gaze.

He tucked a wet strand behind her ear, looking rather concerned. “Why did you jump in when you couldn’t swim?”

“I-I forgot.”

Her answer made him frown yet he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You forgot that you couldn’t swim?”

“I don’t know…” She bit her bottom lip, her forehead puckered. “I just thought...I just thought you had fallen into the water. I couldn’t bear to lose you...so I jumped in.”

“Aww, Peach. My sweet Peach.” He sighed and kissed her forehead a couple of times as she laughed quietly into her palms.

“Why did you jump in?” she asked.

“I woke up and you were gone, then I saw your shoe by the river and thought you’d drowned," he said, making her laugh as her face relaxed.

“I was cold so I went into the forest to collect some more wood to light a fire. I dropped my shoe and my hands were full, so I left it there for when I got back. You needn’t have worried about me. I’m not that stupid little girl anymore.”

Confusion overtook Harry’s face as he stopped twirling her hair and pulled back a bit, their eyes meeting. He didn’t have to question. She had realised what she’d said. She swallowed hard, pressing her lips together and quickly looked away.

“That was you,” he uttered. It wasn’t a question. It was him confirming what he already knew. She flinched when he pressed his cold palm against her cheek and turned her face back to him.

“When did you find out?” she finally asked.

“When we were in the cave,” he said with a smile. “You asked me if Kenny was my betrothed and went ahead to explain what it meant. And I just...I just knew.”

“So why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure then.”

“Still…you should have said something.” She pouted while snuggling her nose into his shoulder.

Beaming, he nudged her slightly. “What about you? When did you find out?”

“When Stefan called you Crow.”

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

There was another moment of comfortable silence before she went on, “I’d spent ten years thinking about the boy who saved my life, and wondering what would have happened if I had gone with him that day instead of going back. But now I know."

“Do you regret it?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, and both of them laughed together.

The rain continued, less torrential than before, and the gloomy clouds had cleared enough for the sun to shine through. Drops of water trickled down her back, her wet clothes clinging to her body and her hair dripping, but she had never felt so warm. She sat between his legs, her back against his chest, her head on his shoulder as they shared the same damp coat he had worn before jumping into the river.

“Were you with the king’s court that day in the forest?” he asked.

She gave a timid nod, for a second forgetting who she was supposed to be. “I followed Egon and fell into the river. I got in so much trouble when I got back.”

“Were you close to him?”

“Yes." She shrugged. "Sadly, he got worse when he grew up. He was still terrible back then but at least he was just a kid.”

Harry was quiet for a moment so she tilted her head to see his face. He was pouting, and when he heard her snort at his expression, he hugged her a bit tighter. “I can't imagine the two of you being close. So that's why he’s so crazy about you."

“He’s not crazy about me.” She chuckled as he pressed his cheek against hers.

“Stefan said Egon had asked his men to kill me and bring you back alive. He clearly wants you for himself.”

That was when it occurred to Y/N that Harry was...jealous. He was jealous of her brother. She burst out laughing at the idea, making him confused but also embarrassed. His cheeks were flushed as he asked, “what’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” She grinned. “I didn’t think of you as the jealous type.”

She expected him to joke about it as he normally would, but he was quiet all of a sudden. She freaked out a little, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong, but then he said, “how did you think I felt every time I saw you with Stefan?”

“I didn’t have feelings for Stefan.”

“But those sisters told me that you did, and the way you acted made me believe that you did.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he sucked in a harsh breath. “And I just felt like Stefan would be a better fit for you as he wasn't a liar and a thief and a murderer--”

“Harry, you’re none of those things to me.” She cupped his face and leaned closer, her breath fanning his lips. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I wasn’t afraid of you. I could never.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice was breathy and quiet.

“Yes!” She nodded fast and turned around, getting on her knees to fully face him and cup his cheeks. “I feel like...I feel like everything is scary except for you. And this might sound very stupid but-but sometimes it worries me how I could see myself letting you hurt me badly and not being able to hate you for it.”

She held his gaze, her breaths busting in and out. Harry’s face twisted as if he could feel everything she was feeling at that moment.

“I swear I won’t ever hurt you again,” he told her.

“You swear on your life?” she asked after a quiet moment and his smile grew wider, his fingers touching her cheek.

“I swear on my life.”

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The rain was finally letting up so they decided to continue their journey to make it to Theros before nightfall. Y/N didn’t even care about her wet clothes. She had not seen and felt the rain in so many years that she couldn’t help but get excited about riding her horse through this type of weather. She watched with wide eyes as the flowers and leaves drooped under the weight of the droplets. She had missed the cool freshness in the breeze and the smell of the rain-soaked ground, flowers and grass. Something about this rain had made her more relaxed than she had ever been and she was in no hurry for the clouds to clear.

But as they almost made it out of the forest, the sky suddenly settled. Although the fluffy smudges didn’t part completely, the sun still peeked out, bringing back the golden sunlight and the summer heat that she loved. Harry suggested that they stop somewhere to get cleaned up and let their clothes hang to dry before going into the city, which she thought was a good idea. She was sweating like a pig in her wet clothes and certainly couldn’t meet anyone when she looked and smelt equally bad.

And so they decided to stop by a waterfall on the way. Y/N had only seen this one from afar every time she travelled past with her family, so she was in awe to finally watch it from a much closer distance. The curtain of white water spilt over the grey rocks as if it were being poured from a giant bucket that never emptied. It was truly a beautiful yet brutal force of nature; tranquil from a distance but deafening up close.

As Y/N admired the magnificent sight, Harry quickly got out of his clothes, hung them on a branch and jumped right in. She heard a splash and snapped her head to find him already in the middle of the river.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, laughing when he saw her nervously fiddling with the strings of her shirt.

“I c-can’t swim…”

“The depth isn’t so bad here. You can just stand,” he reassured her but he knew drowning wasn’t her biggest concern. Her face was as red as an apple, and he thought it was just lovely. “I’ll look away for you to take off your clothes.”

“But--”

“Hurry up, Peach! The water is pretty nice!” he shouted with his back facing her.

Her fingers stuttered on the strings as she took in a shaky deep breath. She stared at her bare feet on the grass, thinking about everything she had been through and how she had faced and escaped death so many times to get there. Who knew what other dangers might be waiting for her ahead? So this might be her last chance to be happy. She had to live like it was truly the last and couldn’t let this moment go to waste.

Just like that, the princess flung off her clothes and kicked off her shoes, grinning like a happy little girl as a cool breeze touched her skin and made her shiver. She wrapped both arms around her chest before slipping smoothly into the water which came only to her upper chest.

“Harry, wait! I’m--I’m coming!”

“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” Harry let out a chuckle as he saw her walking towards him with her arms tightened around herself. “See? It feels good, doesn't it?”

The corners of her mouth had barely turned up when she felt something moving at her feet. She screamed so loud and jumped on top of Harry. He caught her with both arms, stumbling a few steps backwards, completely frozen when he realised he was holding her whole naked body against his own. Y/N also froze. Both of them were catching their breath as his eyes moved over the swells of her breasts and her heart had never beat louder. She was scared, but then...she wasn’t. The heat in his eyes warmed her up, and she suddenly felt hot, unable to pull away.

Harry almost cursed out loud as he could feel her nipples pucker against his heaving chest. His body reacted almost instantly when faced with her own arousal, and he could feel her tense when she felt his stiffness between her soft thighs. He kissed the top of her head, his lips curved into a nervous smile and he pulled away slowly, embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

“It was...um...only a fish,” he said bashfully. She only nodded. Suddenly, she took his hand and pulled him quickly towards the waterfall. He had no idea how she had gained such confidence, but he didn’t question and just let her lead the way. He was hard, embarrassingly hard, but he had to act normal for now and hope it would eventually go away.

Y/N didn’t explain as she gracefully slipped underneath the waterfall. She put her hands on a large rock, the fall pouring upon her, and pulled herself onto a small ledge that jutted off the cliff right above the edge of the bank. His heart missed a beat but then he heard her calling out his name from underneath the fall's deluge. He wasted no time to slip beneath the waterfall to the outcropping behind, holding his breath under the torrent of water.

When he emerged from the downpour, she immediately grabbed him and locked her mouth upon his. They kissed intensely, hands roaming over each other's bodies. He wasn’t thinking when he put his hand on her full breast and pushed her back against the wall of the ledge, but he guessed she liked that. She pushed herself up to sit on a boulder, pulling him back in, their lips meeting again.

He had to break the kiss to catch his breath and almost lost his mind when he looked down. He had been with so many women in the past and yet no one could match the image in front of him. Her centre was pink and glistened with her own arousal as she sat with her legs opened wide and him in between. His wild eyes followed a droplet trickling down the valley of her breasts, to her belly button, to her--

He quickly looked up, their eyes locked again. Her confidence had soon faded and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was somewhat afraid. He knew she wanted him, and God, he had wanted her for so long. The sight of her spreading open for him made him go mad, but she was a virgin. She had never kissed anyone else let alone been touched or even seen like this. Now he felt terrible. He felt like he was using her for her innocence. He almost told her they should stop and get back to their horses when suddenly she pulled him closer.

“Harry…”

He groaned and shut his eyes at the sound she had made. His hardness was resting heavily between her thighs, just one push and he would be inside her, the thought made his stomach clench.

“Harry,” she said breathlessly, her lips ghosting over his, “touch me again.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head fast, his eyes squeezed shut as if he was talking to himself. His eyelids fluttered as he released shallow breaths and mumbled, “I can’t be your first, Peach. We have to stop.”

“We could die tomorrow. I don’t care.”

“You do care. And we’re not going to die. I’m not going to let that happen, all right?”

She pursed her lips and nodded once, her eyes bored into him. When he kissed her again, it was his heart telling him to do it. He made sure to keep his fists on the boulder on either side of her to refrain from touching her, knowing he couldn’t stop once he had started. But he was still hard. How could he not when he could feel her heat at the red tip of his cock which was begging to be touched by her?

“Can we do that thing?” She sounded breathless against his lips, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

“What thing, love?”

“You know, when...when you r-rub but don’t go...in...”

“Fuck, did they also teach you that?” His smirk made her blush harder and somehow it turned him on even more, which he didn’t know was possible. He could see that she was dripping and she needed him to give it to her now, but she was too shy to beg so he hastily tugged her hips towards his, her core directly on his cock. She let out a gasp at the contact while he moaned, gripping her hips to get her to move.

With one hand at the back of her neck and the other cupping her cheek, he hungrily chased his lips with her own, swallowing up every little sound that she made, even though their heavy breathing could certainly not be heard over the sound of the water.

She tightened her hold in his long locks as she began to slowly rock over his hard-on. He began to rock back into her, his hands moving down to grip onto her waist and guide her movements, forcing a moan to slip past her lips. Her mouth dropped open at the feeling of his bare cock rubbing against her wet clit. He mumbled hotly into her ear as his warm breath fanned her skin. She would always cringe each time she heard such dirty words, but the way he said it, because he said it, she was weak at the knees.

Y/N had gained a bit more confidence, the slickness of her core allowing her to glide over him easier, the feeling making her cry out into his shoulder. Her harsh breaths warmed the skin of his neck. He reattached their lips and licked into her mouth. The thought of her sweet cunt alone drove him absolutely mad, making his cock twitched as he let out a guttural groan. He couldn’t help but close his eyes and imagine how warm and soft her cunt would be for him. The thought of burrowing himself inside of it and feeling her wrapped tightly around him was simply too much for him to handle.

He blurted out a swear as he brought her forehead to lay against his while cupping her face and running his thumb along her swollen bottom lip. Her thighs still wrapped around his hips, and her face tucked into his neck.

“Fuck, love. You’re so warm for me. So warm and wet.” The filthy sounds he made and the words he said only spurred her on. She felt hot all over as the throbbing in her core spread through her entire body. She let out a little whine and began to grind faster, losing her rhythm on his cock ever so slightly.

“Look how wet you are for me. Just like I’m all hard for you. Is this all for me, my love?”

She clenched at his words, nodding her head so fast it could fall off and she wouldn’t even care. He told her she looked so pretty like this, that she’d got him so close. She felt dizzy, and his head was also spinning as he moved his hips against hers.

“Gonna cum for me?” he whispered in her ear. “Gonna get me all wet?”

She began to lose her rhythm, nearing her end. He gripped her waist with both hands, moving her faster. He felt her body tremble as she suddenly soaked his cock, a high-pitched whine tore through her throat as her toes curled and her fingers buried in his hair. His hands fell to her buttocks, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands and moaning in her ear.

He shouted out in surprise as white ribbons of cum began to spurt from his tip onto her stomach and his own. He was shaky and twitchy as he held her close to him, burying his face in her neck and letting his own orgasm wash over him. He couldn’t believe he was still coming, and they hadn’t actually made love.

Fuck.

He was truly crazy about her.

They took their time coming down, trying to steady their breathing and the beating of their hearts. He held her close to him, burying his face into her hair. And when she cupped his cheek with one of her hands, his eyes fluttered to open as he pulled back a little to lock eyes with her. They shared a smile. His breath faltered at just how beautiful she looked. Seeing how soft and bright her eyes were made him want to kiss her again. He quickly brought her face to his and pressed their lips together, this time much gently.

“I’ve ruined you. You’re not innocent anymore,” he joked when they pulled apart.

“That’s okay,” she replied, pressing her forehead against his. “I like that.”

[yet-another-saberface]

Interim Headcanons: Fuyuki -> Orleans

This is the first in what’ll be a series of story posts that are ‘Interims,’ or what takes place in between singularities! (Other than the eventual events.) They have less heavy story content but are still necessary because they do contain character stuff.

This one has a fic section roughly in the middle of the post! It’s around 1500 words & in the first person POV, which is actually what I’m most experienced with writing, so I hope everyone can enjoy that! There should be another short fic post coming out before I start on Orleans that’s less story and more slice of life stuff, but I’m still figuring out what exactly I want to do with that and had everything else done, so I decided to post it now!

We’re summoning some people, so get ready!

Between Fuyuki and the first real singularity, Eva practically refuses to have any downtime. She’s told that she should take it easy, let her leg heal, and wait for them to pinpoint the appropriate rayshift point. At some point they’ll help her set up the summoning circle for backup, but until then, she doesn’t need to be doing anything.

Instead of following those orders, Eva essentially ends up doing the work of multiple people herself. She hangs around the command room, usually standing the entire time, and will rush over to help anyone that seems to be having any difficulties. One of your numbers seems off? She’ll double-check it for you and if it’s correct she can explain exactly why. Tech isn’t working? Not her area of expertise but she’ll troubleshoot it until she can’t anymore, at which point she runs off to find Da Vinci. Something weird happening magically? You better bet she’s all over it and probably pushing you out of your workstation to handle it herself.

After a day or two, Roman notices what’s going on and takes her aside. She’s promptly banned from the command room unless someone asks for her to be there.

She tries to hide her disappointment… Which is surprisingly easy when the only emotion you can really convey at the moment is ‘tired?’ She heads back to her room, takes her boot off, and collapses onto her bed trying to figure out what else she should do, falling asleep in the process.

She wakes up around a full day later with a brilliant idea.

She’s gonna set up the summoning circle and perform the ritual herself. She forgets about the boot and immediately rushes off the Chaldea’s library with the intent of double-checking her memory.

She actually ends up spending a lot more time in the library than she intended when she finds out just how expansive it is. There’s all the books on magic she’s read before, along with literally everything else she could ever hope to find. This is how she finds herself filling a crate with somewhere upwards of 15 books and dragging it back to her room after leaving a note so people know who took them.

Mash catches her as she’s heading back with the books, glad to see that she seems less tired. When Mash offers to help with the books, Eva tries to say no, until Mash notices that she isn’t wearing her boot anymore. 

“Senpai, did Doctor Roman say your ankle is okay now?” “Uh… Wait. Right. My ankle is injured. Still. Crap.”

It’s only then that she starts to notice how the pain is coming back from all the unsupported weight she’s been putting on the injury, and finally accepts Mash’s offer to help with the books. When they finally get them back to Eva’s room, Mash makes sure that Eva actually puts on the boot this time. Afterwards, Eva is posed with a question she’s not sure if she should answer.

“What are you planning on doing with all of these books?” A pause. “I was just going to refresh my memory! I’ve done a lot of research into servants and stuff in the past, but I’m not sure how much of it I actually remember…” “That’s a wonderful idea, Senpai! Do you mind if I borrow some of these?” “Oh… No, go ahead! Just uh… Not this one, I was gonna start here!” She conspicuously grabs the book on rituals.

She spends the rest of the day reading up on how summoning rituals work, and later that night, when the fewest people possible are awake, she sneaks off to the summoning room that was pointed out to her earlier… 

        I open the door to the summoning room to find darkness. It’s unexpected, unsettling. Darkness is not something easily found in Chaldea, where everything is lit up with screens and fluorescent lights. It’s fitting, I guess, that humanity’s last hope should be constantly illuminated. But if that’s the case… Then why is it here, of all places, that I find darkness? Doubt creeps into my mind, as it always does. Millions of questions spring from that first one, slowly weighing me down, and looming over me like a shadow. Is this really a good idea? Maybe there’s a reason they said I should wait for their help setting this- No. I can’t just not do it. I need to prove it. That I’m capable of being the Master that saves humanity. And this is the first step. The light from the hallway illuminates just a bit of the room, but it’s enough that I can see that a circle has indeed already been drawn on the floor. Good. Now I just need to take care of… Everything else. I feel around on the walls by the door for a light panel until I finally knock my hand against it. The room lights up in blues and whites, unlike anything else in the facility, leaving me in awe. This is definitely the place to be doing magecraft. Glancing around a bit more, the room appears to be empty… With one exception. Tucked into the back right hand corner, there’s a small stack of white crates. Okay, then. Let’s start there. I make my way around the edge of the circle that takes up most of the room, ducking my head a few times as I try not to disturb any of the floating bands of light throughout the room. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I can’t afford to take any risks. When I reach the boxes, and carefully remove the lid of the top one to find it full of prism-like stones, each one containing every possible color. They’re big enough that I can only fit one in the palm of each hand, and are lighter than I expect. I set the one I’d been holding back down in the box, rummaging for the book I’d stuffed into my pocket before coming over here. I skim through the pages for just a second before landing on the one I’d marked earlier. Stones, stones… Gems, maybe? Why are these here? I’m halfway down the page when it hits me. They’re probably catalysts. I have no idea if they’re meant to summon anyone in particular, but there’s little chance they’re anything else. Summoning’s supposed to be easier with a catalyst, right? There’s several boxes of these… Surely using a few wouldn’t be noticed. And besides, most catalysts stick around even once the summoning is complete. Most of them. Hopefully that’s how these work. Given that I’m unsure what exactly they are, I grab 3 just to be safe after setting my book down on the floor. With one in each hand and a third tucked against my chest by my upper arm, I carefully inch a toe into the summoning circle. Nothing happens. …Okay then. It’s probably not activated yet. That’s good. I set the stones down in the very center, one at a time, so that they’re arranged in a triangle formation, before walking out of the circle as quick as I can. Still, nothing happens. Good. No surprises. I put the lid back on the box, grab the book, and then walk back around to close the door for good measure. Something tells me I don’t want anyone walking in on this. Circle, catalyst, mage… There’s no way this is as easy as it seems, is there? There’s gotta be a catch to it. But… If there is one, it’s definitely not mentioned at all. So all I can do is hope that what works in theory works in reality, like always. So I set my book down and stand my ground in front of the door, facing the circle. Don’t screw up the incantation. Remember how you changed it. Remember your theory. This is all gonna work out just how it’s supposed to. I take a deep breath. I blink. And before I speak, I picture it in my head. A drop of ink hitting paper, spreading a deep blue color across the white page. With that, I can feel the familiar hum and warmth of magic circuits spread through my body, giving me focus. I can do this.

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my own hope and faith in humanity be what allows it. Let a wall rise against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate. Know this; I am all the good remaining in the world. I stand against all the evil threatening our world. And it is I that shall come to have dominion over that evil. Heroic Spirit, attended to by the three great words of power, Come forth from the right of restraint, keeper of the balance!”

As I progress through the lines of the chant, I can feel more and more magical energy building up in my body, desperately trying to be released. But that heat, that feeling of everything building up, cannot compare to what happens as I end the spell. All of the energy is pulled from my body at once. I can feel each and every individual nerve fighting against it, to no avail. It’s like my heart has stopped beating, yet is also beating too fast. I’m hit with a sudden migraine, yet the next second, it seems like it was never there in the first place. And all the while, I’m forced to close my eyes because the room, once dimly lit, is now full of a blinding white. And while they’re closed, images flash through my mind. Fire. Death. A silhouette, unidentifiable. And finally the back of a boy, my age, in a Chaldea uniform, standing at the ready. I hear something incredibly loud, some sort of boom, though maybe that’s not the best way to describe it, followed by a much quieter cracking noise, as the light behind my eyelids fades away. My hearing starts to recover, but I’m scared to open my eyes. I have no idea what just happened. Did it work? Was all of that meant to happen? The book hadn’t mentioned any of that. So I stand there, listening and breathing. Hoping against hope that everything is okay. Until I hear someone speak. “I ask of you, are you my Master?”

As I finally open my eyes, another girl stands before me in the center of the circle. The stones are gone. (Dammit.) As she looks at me expectantly, her green eyes seem to see right through me. I can’t tell if I’m being judged or not. But as I take in the rest of her, I do my best to offer a response, however quietly. “Yeah. I… I’m your Master.” It’s barely more than a whisper, riding along a shaky breath. So much for seeming confident. We stand in silence for a few more seconds as I catch my breath. It worked. It really worked. That’s a Servant. Right there. In front of me. That I summoned. This time when I look at her, I begin to notice things without trying beyond her physical appearance. For starters, she’s a Saber. Wait a- That’s not any Saber. That’s. “You’re King Arthur.” “That… Is correct, Master,” she replies, showing slight confusion. “Holy… Okay. Um.” As I’m pausing to take a breath, the door behind me slams open. I jump a bit, and when I land, pain shoots through my leg. My boot broke during the ritual. I glance behind me to find Mash, Roman, Da Vinci, and a few other staff members staring. “Senpai, what did you-” “IsummonedaServant,” I blurt out, trying to shift as much weight off my right foot as possible. When everyone keeps staring, I add on a halfhearted “...Sorry?” There’s a collective sigh from the group, none of whom really seem to know what to do. “You do realize we told you to wait, right?” Roman asks. “Yes, but I thought I could handle it, because I’ve studied this a lot, and clearly I can handle it, because it worked, so-” “Chaldea actually has an alternate summoning system-” Da Vinci starts, but I cut her off. “...Oh. Of course! That… Makes a lot of sense now.” I find myself looking towards the ground. “Why’d I go and do this?” I add at the last second, quieter than the rest. “Don’t worry, this is nothing I can’t handle!” Da Vinci responds. “Just make sure to let us know before you summon anyone again, okay?” “Okay,” I respond, still quiet. When no one else says anything, Roman speaks up again. “All right then, everyone else should get back to what they were doing.” He glances at the leg the boot had broke off of, even more worried than before. “Mash and…” “Saber,” the other Servant answers. “Right. Mash, Saber, can you help Eva to the infirmary for now?” The two of them nod before stepping over to me and adjusting so that each of my arms is over one of their shoulders. I cringe a bit when I have to adjust my right leg, and soreness is slowly starting to spread through the rest of my body. This idea is continually turning out to have been way worse than I thought it would be.

So, as it turns out, Eva continually doing things that put strain on her injury has set back the healing process, and even when it does heal, it’s likely still going to be weaker than it was. She won't need a cane or anything, but she should still be wary of it and avoid relying on her right leg too heavily from now on. Running and other simple physical activity is fine, but should she need to say, kick something, she should absolutely favor her left leg unless she’s made the necessary precautions and given her right ankle the support it needs to prevent more injuries. 

They get her a new boot and she’s essentially grounded for 2 days, not allowed to leave her room. They also start cutting the lights in her room on a schedule for as long as she’s grounded so that she’s forced to sleep.

She emerges, somehow, both less tired and more grumpy. Everyone catches on pretty quickly that she’s getting antsy because she’s not allowed to do anything, so they decide to set up the summoning system and let her try out a summoning that won’t make her injuries worse.

She’s initially hesitant to try any summonings with the more tech-heavy system, but she eventually agrees to go ahead with it after Da Vinci spends over an hour explaining every intricacy of how it works and how it differs from normal summoning. It’ll work, according to magical theory, so she doesn’t have anything to lose by trying it out.

This time, instead of just a single servant, she actually manages to summon several, those being Medusa, Caster Cú, Archer Emiya, and Saber Alter.

The tension between the 2 Sabers is pretty obvious, so Eva does her best to make sure that they aren’t forced to interact much while still spending time with and attempting to understand each of them. Since they’re both pretty reserved, it’s a slow process, but at least she figures out pretty quickly that they both really love food.

Cú is still salty that he’s not a Lancer, but is still glad to have at least been summoned again. He’s actually rather surprised by just how much Eva immediately puts value in him. She starts carrying a notebook around with her, and will write in it whenever she notices something new about Runes she didn’t know before. He actually tries to help her use Runes at one point, but it ends up blowing up in both their faces because Eva was focusing more on her anxiety than on the effect she wanted to achieve. 

Eva knew literally nothing about Emiya, so more than pretty much every other Servant that’s around, she tries to seem professional around him. That completely collapses when he catches her in the kitchen at 3 in the morning halfheartedly making grilled cheese. From then on she’s a lot more casual and every once in a while she pesters him incessantly about Reality Marbles. She’ll probably eventually figure out that he knows more about the Sabers than he lets on.

Medusa actually surprised Eva a bit. While Eva knows a lot about her from mythology, it took awhile for her to figure out anything about her as a Servant, other than what she could discern from practice battles. The first real bit of progress she makes is when she finds Medusa reading in the library. Now they just kinda have one of those “sit and read in silence together” type friendships.

Eva isn’t exactly all hyped up for whenever the next singularity is identified, but she promises herself that she won’t be scared to go and do whatever’s needed in order to correct it. After all, she has more allies this time, and it seems like her magecraft is getting better by the day. Now all that’s left is to save humanity.

New Servant Log:

Artoria Pendragon (Saber)

Artoria Pendragon (Alter)

Cú Chulainn (Caster)

Emiya (Archer)

Medusa (Rider)

I actually have an excuse to tag people and that makes me happy

@contractgreen​ @panyum​ @withanina​ @campanulabell​ @delfinaschiffer​ @princessaslan​ @armageddon25​ @patproductions​ @xviicprc​

[deanirae]

Can you get it inside your head I’m tired of dancing?  

post 8.07 pre 8.08] crack/angst past turned unrequited deancas, implied deanbenny 2,4k [x]

The sun, also currently known as bitch, has got some serious nerve to sit where it always does, not upside down and nine miles to the left as it frankly should on this memorable fuckhat day. Where is the End of Days when it's really called for? When it should be really nigh?

Dean flips the front mirror panel down not to have to deal with at least that one disappointment. He can still see Cas's half-constipated, half-abandoned and kicked in its fluffy ass puppy face in the mercilessly annoying reflection. The obvious choice would be to not grace it with anything right now, but A – he's the one driving so his eyes can't wander off pretty far, especially in the barely sunlit grayness – and B – on his left, Sam is currently roleplaying a twelve year old girl that has her big emotional introspection accompanied by listening to Sarah McLahlan because her mean parents wouldn't let her buy ebola from the internet. Or something.

Point is, he's three hours into ostentatiously moping, trying to quietly terrorize Dean into making peace with Cas on the fly so it won't be awkward and problematique for him anymore. To Sam, Dean is just too inconvenient anytime he's inconvenient. And that, by order of nature herself, demands immediate and final stopping and ballot recounting also.

And Dean's point is, that it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

And Cas's point – assuming he’s still remotely capable of making those –  seems to be dead-set on that 50:50 face thing. And Dean regrets briefly glancing; with more or less the same intensity he regrets his whole life on the crap weather days his bones hurt harder than it should be legal.

Sam, in his hemhorroidal disturbance, reaches out to the tape deck and attempts to put anything on, but Dean feels like exactly zero of his tapes right now, so he swats Sam's hand off with a loud smack. Judging from the faces he gets for that, it's gotta be resonating in their heads a lot.

It's gonna be a long ride to Lousiana, way longer and more exhausting than the freshly puked from Purgatory one. In fact, the closer they get to Lafayette, the more tired he is and they won't start working the vetalas case until tomorrow night because apparently hanging around clubs on fridays is the new hanging downside of trees or whatever cool thing it was vetalas were doing before the rise of the all you can eat buffet of horny dicks certain they're gonna get reverse cowgirls for a two dollar drink. Or reverse cowboys. Fucking cheapskates. Some of them do have it coming. But in severe STDs, not in this.

In itself, waiting for the actual hunt really doesn't need to be a problem. It's just that Sam and Cas are fucked-bent on having it be one because—

“I said I'm going to stay with you and join you on hunts,” Cas finally snaps. „There's no need for this 'backup' as you call it, Dean.”

—Because that.

“Don't air quote it, man,” Dean mutters wearily, because of course Cas air quoted it.

“And there is absolutely no need for you to sleep in a vampire's camping truck when we have plenty of motels to pick from,” Cas rants on, zero deterred and plus ten determined, clearly not tuning into Dean's I don't wanna discuss that vibe.

Annnd because that too, yeah.

“Well I donno, I sure didn't want us to look like some sort of a hookup site for salvation army fashionistas threesome. You'll thank me later. Or you can do it now and shut up when you're done, how's that.”

“A vampire,” Sam interrupts his polished bitchface just to whine it out, which has to be peak brotherly care by his modern standards.

“You two asshats had no problem leaving me in vamp-vegas for a goddamn year,” Dean growls. “I am an adult adult and I need some me-time that isn't you time. And I'm gonna have awesome time while I'm at it. Sue me if that's a crime. Bother my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer”, says Sam.

“Aren’t you kind of a lawyer?” Dean remembers suddenly. “Or at least close enough for you two to bother each other and not me?”

“No, didn’t get to get there yet, thanks to you,” Sam mutters, also suddenly remembering the past life of his that was never meant to be.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Dean whines. “Did I set your girlfriend on fire?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you missed me,” as if triggered by the word fuck, Cas drops the bomb with an evenness in his voice which hints at many things but Dean's brain is too stop-record screech to dissect them right now.

“What?” he blurts out, confused and affronted both.

“I thought you missed me,” Cas repeats, lower and harder like Dean's a stupid cat that won't spit out what it's chewing.

“Cas, I really don't wanna do this.”

“You kept praying to me to come back, Dean. After you were out of Purgatory. I heard you. Those were quite some prayers. Now you're putting yourself in real danger just to stay away from me. I don’t understand.”

Sam just stares at Dean, the always most helpful thing on the planet that he is. Thanks, Sam. Dean stares at the road. Cas stares daggers through the back of Dean's head. Poor Baby can't just leave this situation so she just keeps on rollin’. Nobody wins that day.

“That was before you told me you were lying your ass off just to kick me out last minute. Your subscription for my prayers and personal Jesus license have now expired, by the way. Like, the fuck does talking to you even do?”

“Fine!” Castiel snaps, so close to throwing his hands in the air for a grand effect but luckily thinking better of it since he's in a car that has a roof among other things. “I understand that you're angry—” he tries to start over, calmer, after a self-collecting breath.

“No, you don't,” Dean mutters.

“But you can't risk your life in the stupidest available way just to get back at me, Dean. Not after everything I've done to make sure you come back safe.”

Well at least he didn't include Sam in that „saving” part.

“You were there, man. You know Benny never double crossed me or you. What the exact fuck is your problem with him?”

A very angry squint-frown precedes the actual answer.

“You were his ticket to Earth. Now your life doesn't hold the same value.”

“Thanks, Cas. That's really swee—”

“You know that's not what I meant, Dean,” Cas growls in a tone that's clearly a final warning.

So final even Sam and his high horse must have heard since he steps in to defuse Cas.

“Cas, I'm not a fan of saying it, but Benny isn't a threat to Dean. I think the guy is kinda trying to settle,” he offers.

Dean smiles a little bit.

“See, Cas?”

“But I'm worried he might have more vamps trying to take him down because he pissed off every fang that ever knew him and then some. This is actual danger, Dean.”

“What?!” Castiel explodes in unbridled rage.

“Sam, have you ever wondered where do snitches go after they die?”

“Dean, you know I'm serious.”

“Ditches,” Dean concludes.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Castiel asks coldly. “After you get killed by vampire avengers?”

“They're all taken care of, Cas. No mean jokes this time. Relax.”

“With your Winchester luck? I doubt it.”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you wouldn't bring me back even if something did happen.”

“Yes, even twice because first I would have personally destroyed you for being so reckless.”

“I know you would.”

“Guys,” Sam tries to placate, “we should all calm down and rethink how to handle it safely. It's not a good time for some jilted lovers tiff”, he begs.

Dean frowns then makes mocking faces at him to communicate that he's being a fucking douche.

“You're a fucking jilted lovers tiff,” he decides.

“We had sex, Dean,” Castiel states accusatorily.

Little does he know, he just broke Sam beyond repair. Now that the cat is out of the bag, the only thing Dean can do is to straighten some things out.

“Once,” he says, raising a finger to accentuate his point. “Cas was sure we were gonna die in the morning. We didn't, but there never was a follow up on that, so,” Dean shrugs.

“You weren't interested.”

“Says you,” Dean huffs. “I’m sorry, do you know me? Being interested in sex is in my top five pasttimes. You behaved like a brick on the other hand and I don’t know how to read concrete.”

“I don’t want to be here, good fucking God,” Sam finally yelps after a successful reboot of his brain.

Dean’s pretty sure nobody wants to be in this car right now and the only goddamn thing that could potentially make him ‘special’ right now is the fact currently Sam’s probably the only person in the Impala who has not lain his mouth on Cas’s dick. Hopefully.

Funnily enough, Cas could easily poof out without lethal injuries, but he’s dead set on staying, judging from the frown on his face that looks like a stock market crash diagram.

“I didn’t exactly see you giving me any signs.”

And set on having this conversation.

“I’m not a cat, I don’t go into heats, Cas. Can we talk about it somewhere more private? Later? Cuz everybody here wants to fucking die right now.”

“Private?” Cas asks. “If you want privacy to talk then why do you refuse to book a room with me?”

“We don’t need to share a room to have a conversation. Unless what you want it to end with is getting back on track with that last night on Earth thing we had that one time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam cries.

“Grow up and stow your crap, Sam,” Cas says unexpectedly before Dean could even bother to serve anything in a similar note.

Dean is so thrown off his equilibrium by that he puts the car to an abrupt halt. Only because he’s too deeply wired to not crash the Impala into the first available so he won’t accidentally kill Sam.

That is, if Cas’s words haven’t obliterated him already. He glances at him, just in case. Speechless as holily commanded by the celestial – potentially horny – wrath from the back seat, but at least he’s still breathing.

“Um,” he says, because someone’s gotta, because he’s still the big brother in this demented equation. “Cas, what the fuck was that?”

“Should you, of all people, really need me to be this blunt – now that the worst affairs have been settled, we could pick up where we left off, and hopefully reach a mutual understanding regarding the nature of our relationship so that doubt no longer hinders you. If it’s still something that interests you, of course. Would that be clear and direct enough, Dean?”

Well, that was… long? Long enough citations are probably needed, but, uh, yeah. S’ gotta be addressed immediately or else.

“Cas, that was 2010 and we have 2012 now.”

“It was 2012 when you prayed to me in Purgatory and it was 2012 four days ago. Granted, your feelings towards me might be very complicated, but I still can sense and read your longing,” Cas says with a weary sigh.

“Stop smelling my longing,” Dean responds with a wearier one. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But I should explain myself to you.”

“I’m real fed up with your explanations, you know that? And we don’t got time for that, either. We need to get to Lafayette because we got a case waiting to get solved.”

“It’s because he’s waiting there for you, isn’t it,” Cas says sadly; not a question. A statement.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. Doesn’t feel like it, too.

Yeah. It’s good to actually have someone waiting for you; someone there.

Maybe it’s not that complicated, after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Dean starts the car. He’s got a place to go to.

The sound apparently wakes Sam from his stupor. His bright idea of the day, he turns the radio on before the awkward silence can make the universe inside of the Impala collapse on itself and on all three of them. Too late for Dean to react now; might as well get a load of the weather report.

In the back seat, Cas flicks his wrist subtly and the monotone voice sharply cuts off into static for a moment and the frequency bar moves elsewhere on its’ – or rather, Cas’s – own.  Some solitary synthesiser-made sounds drop one after another like tiny steps and Dean realizes he definitely has heard this song before at some point in his life as eighties one hit wonders ain’t no strangers to him. Oh well. Might as well not get any of the wea—

Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?

Is he fucking kidding?!

Came back only yesterday, I’m moving farther away.... Want you near me…

“Are you fucking kidding?” Dean cries out, incredulous.

Tries to turn the radio off but it just won’t die.

All I needed was the love you gave— “You want melodramatic? I’ll give you melodramatic.” —All I needed for another day — Dean reaches out for his phone and starts typing angrily — and all I ever knew, only you.

He puts on good ol’ Fish and hopes it’s gonna be louder than Cas’s synth-pop loving. And starts driving towards where he wants to be cause he’s tired of dancing.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Emotional Support, $500/hour

Alastor hires Angel for his services. No, not those services. The "provide sympathy and advice for some poor loser who's found himself unwillingly stuck in a soap opera" services. Although Angel would far rather do it as a friend rather than for pay.

Tumble mobile is a piece of crap that won't let me post an entire chat log in one post, and I don't want to wait eight hours to post this when I get home, so gonna post this in two chunks. Part one:

Alastor

A text arrives at one of the numbers written up on the walls around Pentagram City:

"Is this Angel Dust's business line?"

Hella formal.

Angel

An identifying ring sounded from Angel's drawer. Not the type that'd fire warning bells in his head, but the sort he preferred to hear from his hotel room.

Time to go to work.

[ The one and only, Toots! 💋 What can I do ya for? 💕 ]

Alastor

"What are your rates just for private conversation? Nothing sexual. I need somebody to talk to."

Angel

Angel reread the message. Once. Twice. A couple more times. Usually he didn't get this type of request on this number, but a part of him was relieved.

[ Ya talkin' companion rates, Babe? I typically run that 500 by the hour, but dependin' on the kinda secrets I'm gonna be keepin', I could drop or ask fa a tip. It's a pretty accurate ballpark, though. Have I lost ya? ]

Alastor

There’s a longer pause before the next reply.

(The pause is for Alastor to go “Five hundred dollars?! FIVE HUNdred DOL*LARS*?! *FIVE—*”)

“I can manage that.”

It’s not going to be *his* money.

Angel

[ Sounds good! Where ya gonna be wantin' me, Sweetheart? Just so ya know, I'm gonna need those bills in my hands before we get down to any business. ]

Alastor

“I’ll have them. The hotel just outside Cannibal Colony’s northern entrance. I’ll let you know the room number.”

It’s a middling sort of hotel. It’s alright.

Angel

[ Alright, I know the area. I'll be there in about fifteen. ]

He didn't know the area. But Angel couldn't let an unknown client know that. Furthermore, last he was there he had himself QUITE THE WELCOMING. So by his better judgement, he asked Bel for directions without running the risk of getting shot this time. He'd find his way.

Alastor

And Alastor is gonna spend the next fifteen minutes cordially threatening the first people he sees who look well-dressed and stupid enough to be carrying around several hundred dollars, and then bolting for the hotel.

He’s settling down on the room’s couch and texting Angel the number at about the same time Angel probably ought to be walking in the front door.

Angel

_Rap rap._ He's not the police, so he saves announcing himself. Nonetheless his senses are alert, his limbs folded deceptively casual before his torso. Anxieties aside, he's expecting an easy job. As soon as he can confirm it's a real job and not a hold up.

Alastor

Alastor’s shadow opens the door for him.

He glances over from the couch. “Right on time.” He gestures to an arm chair across from the couch. Surprise!

Angel

Angel looks at his phone. The room number. His phone again. They surely match up exactly, don't they? A rather robotic wave to Alastor's shadow, just to be polite, before he pokes his head in without crossing the doorframe.

_" ... What. Am I bein' punk'd 'ere!? "_ Arms flail wildly as his eyes dart about the room in search of clues he might not get from the real deal on the couch. " THIS where ya been holdin' the crock pot hostage?? "

Alastor

“Do come in and shut the door before you start shouting, would you? I *am* trying to be discreet, here.” Proof of that claim: he’s actually using an indoor voice for once.

There’s no crock pot. No nothing else, either—he got the room less than five minutes ago just for this, he hasn’t touched a thing and he didn’t bring any personal effects. Just him, sitting cross-armed on the couch.

He uncrosses his arms, fishes a wallet out of his pocket, and slides several bills half out. See? He’s legit. “I have enough here for—let’s see—about three hours and twenty-five minutes. Hopefully I won’t need that much, but.” A jerky shrug.

Angel

His face fell and stiffened into a vague sternness. Wordlessly he stepped around the shade and soundlessly shut the door. This energy was too weird. He didn't trust it. He didn't like it. Either he or Alastor was running the risk of being made a bigger fool than Narcissus in the pond. Fittingly, neither one of them would risk their egos for something so trivial.

He was MORE than serious.

Angel passed the arm chair, instead taking a knee before him and lowering a hand over the wallet. " I'm not takin' ya money, Al. The fuck's goin' on? "

Alastor

“Oh, don’t worry about *that,* it’s not my money. It properly belongs to...” He pulls a card out of the wallet and squints at it. “Mr. Bee. Ironically, he looked more like a parrot.”

But he doubts that’s going to satisfy Angel. “I’m not talking to you as a friend. I’m hiring your services as a professional. I need your expert advice on a matter. And if I’m asking you to do your job, I *am* going to pay you for it.”

Angel

Angel rose a brow higher than his last hit. At the very least he could relax, but he was still dumbfounded -

_... as a friend?_ If he weren't a professional, he'd be asking him as a friend? The corner of his mouth twitched. It seemed more likely that he wouldn't be asking him at ALL if he weren't professional.

Regardless, he was wasting his energy trying to figure him out on his own. " What in the Nine's could ya be askin' _me_ for? " A short exhale before shifting his back against the armchair. " Save fa givin' yaself a day coma, I thought ya... pretty good at keepin' ya shit together... "

Alastor

Alastor rifled through the wallet to see if Mr. Bee had any interesting membership cards worth stealing—museums, day spas, secret societies, etc.—before sitting forward and holding the wallet out to Angel. “Are you taking it? Because I’m not telling you why I’m asking you unless you’re on the clock.”

Angel

" Alright alright, lemme see, " Angel lied with little to no intention of sitting on it. He flipped through the bills and counted them off by the hour before placing them on the table beside him. " ...120, 180, remainder a 25. 205 minutes of complete and undivided attention, in part or in full. You're set, Smiles. "

Alastor

Alastor watched as Angel counted. “All right.” He took a deep breath, let it all out. His gaze didn’t move from the table to Angel. “I could use—relationship advice.”

Angel

He could BURST with the sheer force of that bombshell, but Angel kept his cool as he made his sprawl of limbs comfortable from the floor. " Ya... gotta secret squeeze around 'ere or somethin? Cannibal gal ya came out t' see? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed ruefully. Wouldn’t that be convenient—some cute little lady to have a predictably heterosexual little afterlife with, sharing all of his shallow surface-level preferences—home era, musical theater, cannibalism—he could pick from any of a dozen ladies he’d passed since arriving in the Cannibal Colony that afternoon who would leap at the chance.

“Not a squeeze,” he said. “Not a gal, either.”

Angel

Well, he was _laughing,_ but it wasn't the good kind. Angel leaned an elbow over a seat of the sofa, keeping all signs of his own personal glee from his face.

Most of it.

" Do tell. "

Alastor

By this point, he wasn’t looking anywhere near Angel. Okay. Now or never. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twisting his laced hands together. “Advice.” Like saying it again would keep this to some emotionally neutral info-gathering consultation. “What do you—How should one handle it, if... one has... sentiments, for one’s best friend, that he doesn’t reciprocate.” His stomach churned. “Andhe’s found out.”

He had very few people he publicly acknowledged as friends, particularly not somewhere Angel would have seen it. Only one of them was a man. He braced himself for an outburst of shock/amusement as Angel worked out who he was talking about.

Angel

Oh this was FAR from strictly transactional. They all pretty much lived together. Their interpersonal lives would be intertwined for the unspecified future. Said best friend was ENGAGED... to Angel's own best friend.

Again, Angel's eyes flickered about the room. This wasn't a Lifetime movie. This wasn't a hidden camera show. This was gonna be their life now and he'd be DAMNED if that sort of mess could be sorted by a few hundred dollars or so.

He just took a deep breath and stated the facts. Any generic advice he had on hand wouldn't be helpful. " You're his best man, Al. _What_ were ya thinkin'? "

Alastor

He squeezed his eyes shut as if Angel had just reared back to sock him in the face. He would have preferred amusement. “*I didn’t want him to kn—*”

He choked on his own static. He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want—They make him happy, *that’s* what I want. Him happy. I don’t want to interfere, I just—“ He had to stop again. Unprofessional. Management would’ve given him a stern talking to after a performance like this.

He lifted his laced hands, pressing the knuckles of his thumbs to his eyelids. “I didn’t tell him. He figured it out.”

Angel

Angel expected defensiveness from trying to pry some more from him, to pass an air of judgement for the sake of pulling out whatever emotions he was trying so hard to hide beneath professionalism. He thought Alastor would HANDLE IT.

Not fall into whatever _this_ was. The Alastor he knew was nothing short of _UNBREAKABLE._ It was as surreal as it was painful to witness. _What could be possibly offer him?_ A simple question suddenly felt loaded and heavy.

" _Hey hey hey._ " Angel rose from the floor and perched upon the sofa facing him. " He's a smart guy. You're expressive as shit. Even performin's got... some of ya in it... Ya can't help ALL OF IT. " He leaned forward, just enough to duck below Alastor's falling level. " ... What he... have t' say about it...? "

Alastor

In a week, maybe he could have been calm and collected and above it all. But it was yesterday. It felt like it was an hour ago. The wounds were still raw, literally.

A sharp nod. “It was unavoidable.” He’d realized that the moment it happened. He still hated, hated, hated it.

“Oh, you know.” Another humorless laugh. He dropped his hands and stared tiredly down at them. “He’s furious, he feels betrayed, he feels used... he believes he still wants to be my friend but if he so much as *looks* at me before he’s ready for it he’ll hate me forever...” He shrugged wearily.

Angel

" That's why ya out here, " he stated with a toss of an arm over the backrest, " I DON'T know. How's he feelin' used? Ya never... did anythin' to 'im, did ya? I mean, since you was tryin' so hard to just keep it in, I can't imagine you HAVE. " Angel racked his memories a moment, but drew blanks. He couldn't think of any reason, for both not knowing enough and such a notion conflicting his own direct experience.

" It's... YOU hurtin' 'ere, from what I see. He's got Valera, they gonna be tyin' the knot soon. You've been... " He swallowed thickly. " There fa him. Tell me why. There's - " Words caught in his throat. Words that may have saved him from damnation had they been said to him when he needed to hear them. " Ain't nothin' wrong... wit' feelin' what ya feelin'. "

Alastor

A nod. That’s why he’s out here.

“Because any time we interacted, there was more to it—more than he was bargaining for. More than he knew about.” He had himself back under control, but his tone was subdued. Almost emotionless. Not very Radio Demon. “We hugged, we cuddled. Napped together.” And was he justified in feeling used over that? All Alastor could say was that he’d felt guilty about it the entire time—that he’d dreaded that maybe he *was* using him. “I *tried* to make sure he was always the one who initiated. It didn’t always end up that way.” He remembered holding him in his arms when he’d fainted, telling himself it was justified because he was just supporting him until he woke back up. He’d been *unconscious.* “He said he couldn’t really consent to anything we did because he didn’t know what he was consenting to.”

Angel

" And he's puttin' that on you? Smiles, ya owed 'im nothin' more than ya wanted 'im knowin'. It didn't change nothin'. Ya still gave him everything he wanted and needed from ya. You think ya owe him a reengineerin' of the parts a ya you can't change, too? He may... own ya... but he can't... change ya. Not like that. "

Realizing he may have been projecting a little too much, Angel cleared his throat. " Lovin' 'im a lil' different don't take away from everythin' ya already had. I dunno why he'd feel so... THREATENED by ya unless he... ain't cool wit' you bein' a guy, but any guy who's that comfy wit' his friends can't be straight 'imself, ah? " He forced a chuckle, but he knew that wasn't the point.

" Ya still... didn't have motives, Al, ya didn't take advantage of him. Ya didn't go underminin' everything he's workin' for. Right? No matter how you was feelin'... he still came first. Now if ya ask me, that's PRETTY FUCKIN' STUPID. But he has ya. Had ya. Whatever happens. He's got it all an' then some just t' kick ya to the curb... " Angel crossed his arms. " Ya don't deserve that. He's got some apologizin' t' do to you. I'd drag ya back to the hotel an' give 'im a piece a my mind right NOW... but y'ain't gonna want that, huh? "

Alastor

*He may own you.* Something inside Alastor twisted in pain and boiled up in fury—because it was true. Some part of him had been seized away and he was never getting it back, and that was the *worst* part of this. He muttered, “I wish I could reengineer it. Not for *him* but for *me.* I don’t want this.”

He shook his head. “It’s not because I’m a man, that never came into it. He isn’t straight.” He says this with the confidence of somebody who definitely absolutely totally knows that this is a fact, despite the fact that he has not, actually, been told so.

No, of course he’d never undermined him, he would never—but that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t, at the same time, taken advantage. Taken liberties he shouldn’t have, here and there. The idea that *he* might be owed an apology was laughable. Alastor wasn’t laughing. “No, absolutely not, don’t say a *single* word to him. As soon as this conversation ends, I never told you anything and you don’t know any of it.”

Angel

" Didn't think so. " Angel dropped his cheek into his hand and studied him. Something changed. He was being short with him. He perused his words, robotic and unnatural, searching for what did it. It was the price he paid for rambling.

" But ya _do,_ want it. You'd want it if things were different, if he felt the same about you. Tell me I'm wrong an' I'll eat my words wit' a side a fries. " He closed his eyes and hummed into his palm. " Whatever closure ya needin' ya gotta find it. " Angel hesitated to volley ideas, as he knew they'd be leaving his mouth astronomically hypocritical. But he wasn't being paid to play by example, was he? " Ya can count on Penny t' come around and give it to ya, but if ya do that you could be fuckin' exiled forever an' give up the front seat to watchin' Charlie's redemption plans go to shits. Sure it's a lotta fun out 'ere, but it ain't no 1929 fun. "

" Or, ya can wipe ya face. Get off ya ass. Make sure ya got all that's goin' on outta ya system. An' find somethin' new to pour yaself into that's got nothin' t' do with him. And keep doin' it until he's got less an' less a hold on ya until... you're feelin' free an' yourself, again. An' he'll just 'ave to deal with whatever that means if he wants to be stayin' friends with ya. 'Cause ya done ENOUGH. "

Alastor

"You *are* wrong." There's an edge of desperation in his voice. "If he said he felt the same and he made me that offer—yes, I'd take it. But if I could actually choose, if I was given a *real* choice? Between being with him and—and having this taken out of me and being *free?* I'd want to be free! I'd choose that in a heartbeat! I'd rather be his friend!"

And he *knew* that was what he'd choose because he *had* chosen it. Back before he realized that freedom was no longer an option. He'd lost a piece of his heart he was never getting back.

He listened to Angel's suggestions. Let out a long, slow sigh. And asked tiredly, "Is that it?"

Angel

" Then ya gonna have to prove it to yourself first babe 'cause ya ain't soundin' convincin'. " Angel ducked below his line of sight again as if it'd grant him a different perspective. " If this sorta thing had a magical fix, you'd know a lot better than me. But it don't. Ya just gotta... "

He frowned. He wouldn't be able to keep the promise of pretending this never happened. " ... keep at it... keep talkin'... maybe you'll wake up tomorrow feelin' inspired. Maybe you'll wish ya never woke up at all, but... it's all ya can do, Smiles. It's gonna take time. " Angel didn't like leaving it at this, but he found himself unsure. With other clients, he could leave them with the best and never hear of the results. So long as he stayed at the hotel, _he was going to end up WATCHING HIM every step of the way._

But he still didn't know how he needed to be taken care of. If Alastor knew himself, he wouldn't have solicited. " Good thing we got all the time in the world down 'ere to find new things to fuck ourselves up with, ah? " He reached out and gently pat the sofa cushion in place of his knee, in place of taking his hand. " You'll... get there. You're the fuckin' Radio Demon. I dunno how ya do half the shit ya do but this is gonna be one a them things. Say it. "

Alastor

"Would it sound more convincing to you if I destroyed everything he'd ever worked for *just* to ensure we could never have a life together? Would that be convincing enough for you?" Alastor snapped. "*Because I did.*"

He shoved himself off the couch to start pacing. "I've *tried* pouring myself into something new to keep him off my mind. I've *been* trying it for the last *fifty-four years.* That's why I'm at the hotel in the first place! It's why I know *how long* you can *kill yourself* with a bottle of 190 proof booze!" He flung his hands up in despair. "I've been trying to *feel like myself* again since 1966, and all I can do is—distract myself! Distract myself and suppress it until the next time I'm reminded of him!" He let out a brittle laugh, "And smear what I feel for him around to all of his duplicates!"

He rounded on Angel. "I've joined musicals, worked in restaurants, moved to a cultish commune, been an alcoholic, gone to therapy, traveled the nine circles, signed onto every harebrained scheme and plot in Hell—including the hotel!—and more things I can't even remember off the top of my head, and on top of *that* put over half a century between me and him, *and he's still stuck in my heart.* I've tried every piece of advice I've ever heard for how to fall out of love and they *haven't worked!* So give me something *new!* Give me something I *haven't tried!* You're the professional!"

He collapsed onto the armchair Angel hadn't taken. He wasn't sure if getting all that out of his system had really helped. He kind of felt like he'd just projectile vomited.

Angel

" Dupli-? ... _Fuck..._ " Angel dropped his cheek into his palm with the rest of his body taking up the empty space on the sofa. This ran much deeper than he thought. The root of his issues didn't even have anything to DO with the Pentious he knew. Likely beyond anything he could possibly say. Hadn't Alastor been so sweepingly BROAD when he came in, he could've been more careful, but- _ah seemed like he tired himself out._

**_Ya DONE?_**

" That kinda miracle workin' ain't on my resume, " he said bleakly with a broad sweep of an arm, " Ya called me fa someone to talk to, not t' be the answer to all ya problems. " As much time as he spent hearing out the woes of the damned, usually all that was really wanted from him was a crank. An easy enough temporary fix. Not here.

He stood up now. Trying to build him up from below didn't seem to be working. Alastor responded only when he called him out, questioned the half-hearted assertions playing from his mouth like a weathered record. Was that what he needed? To be spiritually disemboweled until he purged all the poison from his soul onto the tarp? He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to call the job off. He couldn't do it. This was too personal and psychologically visceral.

But even moreso, he couldn't give up on and leave him there for much of the same reason he couldn't leave him at the bar. Self destruction was a BITCH to be going through alone. And at the root of it all, Alastor made it clear enough he didn't want to be alone by calling him there.

Angel braced a long arm over the back of his chair so he could drill him in the eye. " Believe me, if I had it all I'd give it to ya, but all I got is this. If ya want ya stolen money back, fine, Al. If ya wanna keep yellin', 'ave at it, Al. Lay out all the shit that's been dry doggin' ya since '66. So I can get it. REALLY GET IT. 'Cause ya holdin' out on me. An' if ya really wanna get the most outta ya hours. Ya gotta keep goin'. "

Alastor

A corner of his mouth twitched. Miracle working. "Of course. Of course, you're right—I'm not expecting a miracle. Not in Hell."

He slouched forward, elbows on his knees again, running one hand through his hair—it was still partially stiff with the hair gel he hadn't managed to shower out at Rosie's, he hadn't bothered to restyle it.

He hadn't liked... that. He still felt sick. "No, I don't want a refund," he said. "I—don't think I want to keep yelling, either." He was silent a moment, trying to figure out what he *did* want from all the things he didn't want, mentally chasing something elusive. It had made perfect sense when he'd tracked down Angel's number—talk to a professional, someone whose job was all about desire and attraction, someone who'd probably dealt with thousands of broken-hearted clients; while Alastor's had only broken once, and just never been put back together.

And now that they were talking Alastor couldn't quite figure out what he wanted. Maybe he really had been hoping for a miracle.

*Ya gotta keep goin'.* All right. "I don't particularly want to talk about '66, either—but..." He took a deep breath. "There was a day when I had a choice—happily ever after with him; or run for the hills, toss aside those emotions, and go back to being who I'd been before I—fell. I chose to run. Destroy everything and run. So—when I *say* that I'd choose freedom over requited feelings... even if it doesn't sound convincing to you, I need you to know that I'm telling the truth. Because I *did* choose it. Or—tried." He looked at Angel, waiting for his reaction—waiting to see if he was believed. Because he needed to be believed. Everyone else in the world only said they didn't want love when they couldn't make it work out—and if Angel lumped Alastor in with them, then... then they would be speaking two different languages that had the same words but different meanings, never actually communicating. If Alastor couldn't make himself understood, he was still alone.

Angel

Angel took a deep breath before sinking to the floor again. " I believe ya. Just gotta say it with conviction, ah? " he said heavily with a fold of his arms over the armrest. As Alastor spoke, he tried to put himself in his place. When he was posed with as monumental a choice, he made the opposite decision. And regretted it with everything he had. Not only was there no miracle working in Hell: there were no choices for the better, either. You were damned whether or not you believed something was too good to be true or fell into the trap. Angel had dived headfirst when he should've trusted that he knew himself better than to believe it'd end well for him.

" How'd it fall through? " he posed with a drop of his chin into his arms, " He bait ya back? " Angel found himself listening with new acoustics. They'd both been in ruins for decades for strikingly similar reasons: trapped by the clutches of toxic loves neither of them want, when they never felt anything of the sort prior. A tragic First they were still fighting. Perhaps he had something to offer him afterall. Perhaps he could support him in a way only few could. He could only hope it'd be enough.

Alastor

“No.” Alastor slid off his chair, too; it didn’t feel right, sitting higher. They should be on eye level with each other. “No, that was—that was why I destroyed everything before I left. To ensure he *wouldn’t* try to bait me back. To make sure he wouldn’t want to. And he didn’t want to. He hasn’t.” Huff. “You saw him on my first day at the hotel! And that’s the longest conversation we’ve had since I left. No, he didn’t do anything. It just...” He shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t fade for me. It’s *supposed* to fade, everyone tells you it’s supposed to fade. It never did.”

Angel

" Oh. That was. " _Let's just pretend he knew from the beginning that they weren't the same demon._ Angel darted his eyes to the corner of the room as he slinked off the armrest. _Yeah. TOTALLY KNEW,_ he lied to himself as he faced Alastor and made himself comfortable. Odd of him to follow his habit. " ... him. " He then cleared his throat. " Yeah, it... doesn't... really... " Angel echoed with a perch of his arms over his ankles. " So... what's ya plan...? Ya gonna just... camp out 'ere 'till ya figure it out? "

Alastor

“That was him,” Alastor said grimly. “My *ex.*” The word was sour on his tongue. Such a fitting word. “And what did I do, I immediately blew up his ship again. Terrific work on my part. Well done.”

A shrug. “Wait at Rosie’s until either he comes calling or I decide he never will, I suppose, and then figure out what to do from there. The—the new ‘he,’ I mean. The one I’m friends with now.” He paused, considering that. “Was friends with.”

Angel

" I'll say. " Blowing up an exe's property sounded perfectly justifiable to him, and it wasn't just Cherri's influence. But he guessed if Alastor felt bad about it that only meant he preferred other ways of moving on.

" Rosie... she... busy a lot? Ya got enough company out 'ere? "

Alastor

“Oh, everyone loves me in the Cannibal Colony. All the ladies swoon and all the men beg me to come over for dinner. I can’t go half a block without getting roped into small talk and dance numbers.” He didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic about it. But he added, “I have better company here than I do anywhere else in Hell,” and *that* was completely true.

Angel

" Well... sounds like a good place fa ya to be... " Angel pondered some. Of course Cannibal Colony was his personal wonderland. But there must be something missing for him to leave, he figured. " Pause the clock for a sec, " he said with a clear of his throat, " Rosie got room fa one more? "

Alastor

“I don’t want a roommate.” He gave the answer immediately; and then, after a moment, grudgingly, asked, “Are you trying to get away from the hotel?”

Angel

" I ain't askin' t' be ya roommate, " he growled, " YOU'RE the one turnin' tail 'ere. " With that, Angel snapped his fingers. " Clock's back on. I ain't ya friend no more. "

Alastor

Alastor stared at him, lost. “Th—No, pause the clock—Then what *are* you asking?”

Angel

He crossed his arms and eyed him sternly. " If ya... " A sigh. He already knew the answer. " If ya need a friend, Al. Ya gonna be out 'ere for fuckall knows how long. Ya goin' through it. Would be much easier if all I had to do was turn a corner instead a hikin' all the way over whenever ya felt like stealin' a wallet. "

Alastor

All right, that was what he’d originally thought. He didn’t know why Angel got *offended* that Alastor hadn’t wanted a favor that had been offered for Alastor’s benefit—but then it wasn’t the first time, was it? “I don’t want a friend nearby. I don’t want to be *watched* while I’m... thinking things over. I need to have that distance.” He unconsciously glanced toward the wallet as he said the last word.

Angel

" That mean ya done? " he asked with a toss of his chin down Alastor's line of sight.

Alastor

He snapped his gaze back to Angel. “No. No, just—have to look somewhere, don’t I?” Deep breath. “Sorry. Distracted. Where were we?”

Angel

He actually pulled him back. Color Angel surprised. " Ya blew up his shit, it didn't do ya no good, ya made a mean jambalaya... "

Alastor

“*Right.* Yes. That’s not the one I wanted to talk about. *He’s* not the one I wanted to talk about. I just—needed you to know the context, but... The one I’m friends with now. That one.”

Angel

" Yeah. The one who kicked ya to the curb after ya tore yourself the fuck apart tryin' to be who he wanted ya to be instead a seein' an' appreciatin' ya fa who you are, " he stated matter of factly with a moderate sweep of his arm, " _That one._ Pen. "

Alastor

It stung to hear. Another little needle jammed into his heart, right alongside all the others already buried in. "If I was tearing myself apart to be who he wanted, then he *couldn't* see who I really was, could he? I've been more or less lying to him as long as he's known me. He's got every right to distrust me."

Angel

" More or less, " Angel echoed, " So ya _not_ entirely convinced you were completely in the wrong. " His eyes challenged him. Though the secondary six didn't have pupils, an eerie weight carried through. " It's 'cause you're not. "

Alastor

"I *meant* in the sense that even when I wasn't *actively* lying, I was lying by omission." He shook his head. "Even if I... It's nothing I don't deserve anyway—in general, in a... you know, a karmic sense. Years ago, I stabbed a version of him in the heart; now he stabs me in the heart. He was probably... *selected,* on some celestial level, to be my punishment." He'd been doing a valiant job of keeping at least a ghost of a smile on his face, but it was starting to waver now. "I knew this wasn't going to work. Of course we couldn't be friends—he was just thrown in my path to rip open the wounds I'd gotten too good at ignoring. If it had a chance of working, we wouldn't have been allowed to meet."

Angel

" What's the point a harpin' on about what ya do an' don't deserve if there ain't no redemption to be had? That cross on ya chest ain't ever gonna flip. " _Catholic,_ he heard Alastor's voice echo in his head. How he _loathed_ those places of worship. Even before being damned his skin burned with rancor every time he crossed an altar. And he did so many times with and without a Colt tucked into his coat. " What'cha expectin' to be comin' outta sufferin' like a good lil' sinner? 'Cause no matter how many times I dunked my wank hand into the holy water, " he said curtly as he signed himself, " I kept missin' the memo. " Intentionally. But he could play dumb for now if it helped him drag some religious trauma out of him.

Alastor

"I don't expect anything to come out of it but more suffering. I don't expect a reward, redemption, or respite. But—and here's the key part—I don't expect anything to come out of denial and resistance, either. Either way, I'm going to suffer and nothing's going to improve. Because this is *Hell,* and *nothing* gets better, and only a *damn fool* tries to improve his lot. Even if he succeeds, it's only because Hell is letting him set himself up for an even greater fall." He crossed his legs loosely, propping his elbow on a knee and his chin in his hand, letting his fingers half cover his mouth. "This situation is just further proof of that."

Angel

" So ya called me just so you can fuck yourself over a lil' more? Ya " damn fool " ? 'Cause if ya lookin' to get fucked UP an' do it RIGHT, that's up my alley, too. " Angel flashed a crooked smirk and waved a his hand. He wasn't serious. However, he _did_ fundementally disagree. " I'm kiddin'. Kiddin'. But ya know. So long as we're stuck kickin' around, sufferin', may as well keep things interestin', " he droned with a shift to his knees so he could reach Alastor's shoulder, " Keep takin' chances. Keep chasin' the next best thing. Keep doin' what'cha do. It ain't gonna matter an' it's always gonna suck, but at least ya get ya kicks outta watchin' other demons handle it a lot worse than you, ah? "

Alastor

He laughed weakly. "I've tried getting f#%ked up." A muffled beep obscured most of the word. "Funny thing though, once you get tired of that, you still have to pick up the pieces. And I never have liked cleaning up messes."

A lump formed in his throat when Angel touched his shoulder. "Next best thing," he muttered. "That's what I've been doing. All this time." He could hear his voice trembling, but he couldn't stop it. "If I can't be *happy*, at least I can be *entertained.* Ha! I just w—!" He couldn't finish the sentence. He slid his hand up to fully cover his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

Angel

Angel chuckled in time with his laugh. Was that part of his act? Was the bleep conscious? He had so many jokes at the ready. He was MORE than ready to start trying to make him laugh...

... but instead, Alastor shattered like glass. Just a touch of a hand was all it took? He always took extra care to respect his space after their first conversation. Right now he was just leading him by example, showing rather than just telling him to take chances.

_" ... Al... "_ He thought he should pull back. Maybe it was a bad call. But if he let go, there'd be nothing there to catch his pieces. _And Alastor surely didn't like cleaning up messes._ Angel took a short breath before raising another hand. He gently squared his shoulders towards him. _" Hey... You ok there buddy? "_

Alastor

He shook his head. But he also didn't pull back. Just this once, apparently, this was what he needed.

Angel

Angel almost felt like he'd be more comfortable holding a hornet's nest, but at least providing this sort of comfort was more his speed. " C'mere. " Cautiously, he slid his arms past Alastor to angle his head over his shoulder and avoid a pair of antlers to the throat. In the same motion, he slipped beside him to support any weight that would fall. _Was it too much?_ He kept his secondary arms on the floor for now, a small crunch of product in his ear as his cheek tilted into his hair.

Alastor

Yes, that *was* what he needed. He'd be surprised at himself if he wasn't trying so hard to hold himself together. He leaned his weight into Angel, pulled his knees up to his chest, and covered his face entirely, one hand over his mouth and one hand over his eyes.

Voice cracking, choking on every few words, he said, "I just—wish—I could stop—dragging him into it. I don't want to be the—the one assigned to—make him suffer. That would be enough."

Angel

_You're NOT..._ Angel took a deep breath and pulled him closer, all arms around him now, a couple subtly rubbing his back. This wasn't a point of argument he could win. He couldn't contest or even tell him it'd be ok. So every time he choked, he gave a little squeeze. Every time he cracked he gave a more deliberate stroke. He could cry into his fluff. It'd be ok. He wouldn't look. Instead of protest, he affirmatively hummed along.

Alastor

He couldn't quite bring himself to cry into the fluff, that was a step too far. That would be the point where chronic touch aversion won out over acute touch starvation again.

But he *was* willing to press his forehead into the fluff—oh wow that was really soft. That was. Insanely soft. Holy shit. It lived up to the advertising.

Angel

He seemed to still. That was good. Angel brought a hand to the top of his head to gauge where the antlers were again, but _god_ was his hair a mess. Roots showing, old pomade... at least it didn't feel an awful brand. Keeping his chin up, he relaxed his hold on him and stayed put, listening closely for potentially muffled words.

Alastor

Just one word for the moment, croaked out from beneath a hand and a wall of fluff: "Thanks." He'll work a few more out, just—give him a moment first. It's been a long time since he's let himself be touched by anyone but the person he's currently a wreck over.

Angel

" Yeah... I won't mention it, " he said quietly before brushing a thumb over the base of his ear. Alongside the softness, it was almost en_deer_ing how small he managed to make himself. But he was a broken man. Angel hoped he'd never have to see this side of Alastor again regardless of how used to his frame he was getting. Less a hornet's nest, more a vulnerable demon just like any other.

Alastor

And Alastor sincerely hoped to never be seen like this again; but that wasn't totally in his control, was it?

He took several deep breaths, white noise hisses; and then asked, "Should I—even try again? Being friends? Or would we both be better off to—not?"

He desperately wanted a *yes, try again.* But he couldn't give himself one. He'd been trying, for days; all his excuses and rationalizations rang false. They all sounded selfish and naive.

Angel

Angel bit his lip. _No,_ he wanted to say, _Not if ya gonna keep runnin' yourself into the ground. Not if you're gonna cling to this idea of suffering._

_Ya just gonna be back 'ere again._

But so would he, wouldn't he? Angel already decided. He wasn't going back to the studio. If nowhere else... he was going to be here. Playing redemption.

" ... He. Should try, " he said sternly as he traced waves, " You don't do a fuckdamn THING to get in his good graces until he makes it up to ya. That's the only way this could work. Ya gave 'im everythin'. It's his turn. "

Alastor

Alastor's throat tightened. He didn't like that answer. "But being loved by a friend is *horrible.*" Voice of experience. "He didn't *want* everything from me. I can't blame him for being upset at having so much shoved onto him. How could I?"

Angel

Angel sighed heavily. Temporary fluff suffocation. You'll survive, Alastor. " I ain't sayin' ya gotta do that. Just that he should f'give ya some. Y'ain't no scarlet fuckin' letter. Just a guy. Wit' a complicated past. Wit' some complicated feelin's. If he's gonna be givin' any bit of a damn about you, he's gonna have to wade through some of it without judgin' ya or blamin' ya. It's what friends do. "

Alastor

That's fine, breathing is optional. He can wait.

"Oh, no? If I had a big red letter pinned to me, are you sure you could tell? B for backstabber." He sighed. "Right—of course. If he doesn't decide to forgive me, there's nothing else I can do. It's out of my hands until then."

Angel

" You'll be _fine,_ " he relented with a sink of his chin onto his head and a wide circle over Alastor's back, " You'll get along again. You'll get over y'selves. Even if ya don't, you'll still be fine. "

Alastor

They'll get along again. They'll be fine. His throat squeezed shut. He doubted Angel had any real way of knowing that was true, but he clung to it anyway.

He tried to nod, found he was buried too deep in fluff to complete the movement, and instead managed a garbled, "*Mhm.*"

Angel

" Mhm, " he echoed affirmatively, fingering a wayward curl back into place. At least as close a place he could figure. Angel then squeezed him tight around the shoulders before loosening into casual sweeps. " ... ... Ya smilin'? "

Alastor

He doubted it, but he prodded his cheek with the fingertips of the hand still over his mouth to check. "Mm-mm." That's a negative.

Angel

His lashes fluttered. He wasn't actually expecting him to say no. " Ok... I'll stay here, long as ya need to. If ya comfortable bein' a lil' ball. "

Alastor

"Mhm." Just a few more minutes. In a few more minutes he'd be able to collect himself. They'd get along again and they'd be fine, and if they didn't—if they didn't he'd face that when he had to.

Angel

" Mhm. " He wanted to chuckle. _Grunt after grunt._ Should he feel guilty about how _funny_ he found this? Probably. Only for the next few minutes as he cycled through the usual motions: playing with his hair, ears, rubbing his back, shoulders, the typical things clients found soothing before and after. Alastor had yet to protest, so he felt certain enough to venture he wasn't _bothered._ Nonetheless, they remained light, idle, all but absent minded. Working, but for a friend.

Alastor

He stayed there for several more minutes, until the idle background sensation of disembodied touches on his back and head slowly returned to what they usually were: prickly, uncomfortable reminders of another thinking feeling person pressed up against his body. He felt his shoulders start to tense and he pulled back a bit from the fluff. "Okay, that's—that's all I can handle."

Angel

" Handle? " Angel questioned as his arms dropped from Alastor's person in favor of leaning back on them, so he could remove himself on his own accord. " Interestin'... choice a words, there. " He tipped his sights to the corner of the room for a spell as he thought. " You ok? "

Alastor

He drew back and started straightening his clothes and brushing himself off—he had a smile back on, but God was it a tired-looking one. Dryly, he asked, “In what sense?”

Angel

" Er... relative sense. " Angel then cautiously leaned into the empty space. " Whataya mean, all ya can handle? "

Alastor

“My personal space bubble turned back on.” He stood up and continued tidying himself, brushing off his pants.