#previous tags; yeah that's definitely cats at the library

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Madness is the Color Green | Chapter Three: Olive

He speaks again, “What is it, pet, cat got your tongue?”

Pairing: Dark!Loki/F!Reader, Thor/F!Reader

Tags: Slight Fluff, Slight Violence

Notes: Next chapter out! It's slow, but we are definitely already devolving. I got sick with the flu that's taken me out for the past few days, but hopefully I'll be able to pump more chapters out when I start feeling better. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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

It had been roughly a week since your encounter with Loki, and you were desperately trying to put the whole ordeal behind you. You were reminded, though, of those dark green eyes and cold hands every time you saw your bruises in the mirror.

Like you knew you would, you donned a scarf every morning to hide the proof of your infraction, going on about your days at work despite the questioning looks of those who saw your winter apparel in the heat of summer. You always made a quick lie about how you’d just been really into them lately, suffering through the sweat pooling underneath the thick fabric and the itch it brought to your skin.

All this effort to forget what happened and yet you were failing miserably. You knew deep down, regardless of your fear, you wanted to see Loki again. You chalked it up to morbid curiosity and loneliness, considering you hadn’t seen much of Thor since the meeting.

Deciding to get your mind off of your disturbing desire, you make your way to the library on your lunch break. A good book has always distracted your wandering mind. You spend several minutes gazing at the fiction section, considering what to read, when you step back to appraise the titles on a higher shelf and bump into a large figure.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You say, spinning around to face whoever you inconvenienced. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes travel to their face to find Thor peering back down at you with a goofy grin.

“What do you Midgardians say? ‘It’s a small world?'” He offers, and you let out a giggle.

“Considering we live in the same building, I’d say small is right.”

He chuckles and takes a gander at the shelf behind you, “What are you looking to read? I came here to find a history book that Tony recommended to me. I always take any opportunity to learn more about Midgard’s growth through the centuries.”

“I admire your dedication.” You say before turning back to the wall of novels, “And I was just looking for a fun story to keep me entertained on breaks.”

He reaches high above you and picks a book off the top shelf, “This caught my eye, have you read it?”

You gaze at the cover in his large hands, “The Iliad? Yeah, I have, back in college. You?”

“No, I’m not really one for fiction.” He looks at the cover for a moment before sighing, “Loki loves stories, though. I’m sure he’d have a grand time scouring this place.”

Hearing Thor say his brother’s name makes you tense, but you compose yourself quickly, “He’s a reader, is he?”

“A reader and a damn good storyteller. He must be sick with boredom by now, with nothing to do in that cell.”

“Or someone to torment.” You mutter.

“Did you say something?”

“Oh nothing, just said I would be too!” You cover quickly, admonishing yourself for your slip of the tongue.

“You and I both.” He replies with that stunning grin of his before placing his large hand gently on your shoulder, his voice dropping low as his eyes meet yours, “Always a pleasure to see you, little one.”

You feel your heart hammer in your chest, as it usually does when Thor so much as glances in your direction, and offer him a shy smile in return. He goes to replace the book he pulled, but you consider what he said about Loki liking to read and an idea crosses your mind.

“Actually, Thor,” you say, touching his arm to stop him, “I wouldn’t mind taking that book, after all.”

He nods and hands it to you before heading out of the library, his history book in tow, turning back to add, “See you around!”

You give him a small wave and reply in kind, watching his large form disappear around the corner before staring at the book in your hands.

“This is probably one of the stupidest things I’ll ever do.” You sigh to yourself.

Even stupider than the first time.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

~~~

Against your better judgment (or any judgment you possessed whatsoever), you find yourself exiting the elevator into the prison sub-basement a second time, the book Thor handed you clutched tightly in your grip.

You force yourself to relax as you approach the guard, hoping your show last time was enough that he wouldn't question why you were here again. He seems surprised by your appearance, but fortunately he lets you pass with only a nod to the other guard in the control box.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you swallow thickly, the knuckles of your hands turning white as you squeeze the book even harder than you did in the elevator.

The man tries to kill you, and yet here you are, offering him a gift. What were you even thinking? You suppose the truth of the matter is that you weren’t.

Taking a shuddering breath, your heart in your throat, you slowly make your way to Loki’s cell, trying desperately to maintain even a modicum of composure.

As you step into view, you’re met with the tall, lean form of the god himself. He’s standing near the bars of his cell, still dressed in his stark white prison uniform, that silver collar gracing his long, slender neck.

He regards you with a raised brow and steps closer. You pull back, trying to keep out of his reach this time.

He lets out a disbelieving snort, “Our little cat has returned for more, eh? Just so desperate to have her curiosity sated?”

You inhale shakily as you hold the book out in front of you, “I thought you might be getting bored in there. Figured I could bring you something to read every few days until they decide what to do with you. If you’d like.”

He slowly takes the book from your hand, his cold fingers sliding across your knuckles as he retrieves it from your grasp. You let out a small gasp at the contact and yank your hand away as he opens the book and looks down at it.

"The Iliad?” He asks, leveling his intense green-eyed gaze on you.

“It’s a classic here on Earth. One of the oldest surviving stories to exist. I wasn’t sure if you’ve ever read Midgardian literature, so I figured starting from the beginning would be the best course. There are older, but this is all we have in our library.”

He quirks a brow again, “You’ve put an awful lot of thought into this, haven’t you, pet?”

Your spine tingles at the word and you take a deep breath, trying not to show just how fearful you are of him, or how captivated you’ve become, “Well, I’d want someone to do the same for me if I was ever stuck in a cell, so…”

He laughs loudly at that, the sound making you jump, “I threatened you, held your delicate mortal neck in my hand and wanted to squeeze the life from you, and yet you brought me a book to keep me entertained in my well-deserved prison. A strange creature, indeed.”

Your throat goes dry as you try to come up with something to say, a retort of some kind, as his severe gaze is burning into you.

He speaks again, “What is it, pet, cat got your tongue?”

You open your mouth to reply, not realizing you took a step towards him.

Before words find you, he reaches through the bars and grabs you by the hair, yanking you into the cold metal painfully. You cry out as he tosses the book to the floor and pulls your scarf from your neck, “I see you didn’t much like the necklace I so graciously gave you.”

You fight against him, clawing at the hand wrapped up in your hair, trying to get loose. He chuckles darkly at your struggling and lays his hand gently over the bruises on your neck before traveling up to grab you by the jaw, turning your face to look at him. His eyes are cold and dark, a sinister smirk playing on his lips as you mewl, desperate to escape.

“You know,” he says, his breath fanning across your face,” Thor visited me not two days ago. Told me all about a mortal girl he met. He never said her name, but funny enough, she sounded a lot like you. What would he think of his precious little mortal sneaking away to visit his villainous brother, hm? You think it would make him jealous? Or better yet…”

His grip tightened painfully on your face as he brought his own closer, his voice a mere whisper, “How would he feel if I killed you right now? Break his heart? Sounds tempting, doesn’t it, pet?”

You’re frozen in place like a rabbit in the clutches of a fox, and you stare with wide eyes at the man in front of you. You were petrified, but a part of you was... exhilarated. 

He sees the excitement flash through your eyes and cocks his head, “You like this, don’t you? You enjoy it when I hurt you? You little masochist.”

He releases his hold and you scramble backwards, watching him make a wide turn away from you before picking up the book he threw, “That just won’t do, will it? Killing you? I suppose this is far more interesting, this odd little fascination you have for me.”

He opens to the first page and starts to read before looking back up at you, “If you keep visiting me, perhaps I’ll make it worth your while, little cat. Perhaps I can… satisfy… that curiosity.”

He turns from you and sits on his bed, beginning to read again, as if he didn’t just have his fingers digging into your scalp while his other hand was gliding across the skin of your throat.

You take a moment to collect yourself, shocked and feeling… something else… bubbling under the surface, something you didn’t quite understand. But it was what brought you here in the first place. What brought you back today despite his last threat.

You quickly pick up your scarf and wrap it around your neck, re-covering the bruises before facing him, “I’ll be back in a few days.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even glance your way, and you took a deep breath before turning on your heels and leaving, thoughts of what book to bring him next and what things he would do to make your visits “worthwhile” buzzing wildly in your head.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

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

Olive:

“Extending an olive branch,” or making an offer of peace.

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[punk-rock-unicorn]

The Library part 2

Fandom: MCU, Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: make out scene, sexual tension, and some naughty hints.

A/N: here we go part two to this self indulgent mess of simping for daddy Zemo. I hope everyone still enjoys it. If you want to be tagged for more parts or send me requests I would gladly do them.

Part 1

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

You opened your eyes with a flash of irritation at the distraction. The chaste kiss between you and the Baron interrupted by his babysitter made you scowl. Brown eyes met your own and he parted with his own smirk at the situation. Teasing and uncaring of being caught in such a precarious situations. His tongue traced his lips and you watched it ravenously before your eyes peeked over your soldier. Your eyes tracking the tall form of the Falcon. His eyes showing disbelief and disgust. Bucky was just behind him with the same look in his eyes but he was more understanding.

He also knew you a little better than Sam did. "Seriously guys?" Sam asked and you barely withheld a snort. Your eyes trailing back to the Baron who leaned above you. Lithe muscle and the stance of a predator. "Are you for real right now?" He asked the both of you. Unfortunately, for Sam, you held no shame in being caught in such a position. Your hand smoothed out the turtleneck from where it was bunched to run up his chest with a teasing smile. Those cunning brown eyes followed it before looking at your face.

"I was just going to see what a Baron tasted like, mate," you said as your fingers moved to twirl the brown hair at the base of his neck. One of his gloved hands, hidden from Sam and Bucky, rested on your right thigh. Slowly his hand moved to the inside of your leg to settle heavily on your inner thigh. "What do you need Sam?" You asked as you leaned your head back to stare at him. Your neck bared for the man's gaze and you could hear his breath hitch as his dark eyes traced your skin.

"If it's not too much trouble," Buck called sarcastically over Sam's shoulder. "If we could get some rooms to sleep in. Take your time." You snickered at the use of sarcasm and pressed on the Baron's chest. Your head moving in a way that told him to back up. With a sigh and a grunt you stood up and moved your hands in the spell to make the tea disappear. The book was still sat on the table and you shook your head at it.

"Alright," you muttered with a smirk and set the book on his chest. His gloved fingers taking it from you with one last caress against your skin. A wink left you as you walked up to Sam and Bucky. "Come on then you spoilsports," you teased and motioned your hand to get them to follow you. You peeked behind to see the Baron himself trailing after you with a smirk.

"Did you hear from your contact in Madripoor?" Sam asked and shot you annoyed looks. You could only smile unrepentantly at him. You did not know him well enough to care about his opinion on who you wanted to snog.

"She's a busy woman," you answered truthfully and looked down at your phone. The text hadn't been answered yet but that didn't surprise you. Time zones were a bitch even for magic users. Just because slip rings could take you everywhere does not mean you should. Jet lag by slip ring was the absolute worst. Truthfully, you were glad they did not ask you to join their terrorist hunt. It sounded dreadfully boring. "I have some left over clothes from the initiates if you want to slip into something more comfortable," you said finally as you stepped up into the floor that held the bedrooms. "If you need the wifi password it's 'Shambala'."

With that you cast another spell to summon the clothes of an initiate. "Now if you need anything else please do not talk to me," you snarked with a chuckle and met Zemo's eyes. "Though I will get some food made for dinner." The three bedrooms were close to each other while yours rested down the hall. The suite of the Mistress of this Sanctum. You had responsibilities but God did you want to play a little. Bucky rolled his eyes but nodded with a smile. He took the clothes and entered his room. Sam shot you and Zemo a suspicious look but nodded as well.

"Alone at last," his accented voice whispered close to your ear and you peeked at him. He went close to his own room and his eyes tempted you to follow. Oh you wanted too. You definitely wanted too. But where was the fun in that. His hand went to tease your upper arm and you allowed it with a teasing smile. "Perhaps I can convince you to-" he started to say and you giggled running your thumb down his jawline.

"I need to get food made, love," you answered and winked at him as he went to follow your caress. "Get comfortable and take a shower while I get food ready. We can continue this later yeah?" He scowled at you but nodded as he accepted the clothes. You grinned as he entered the room and shook your head. What a tempting distraction. You licked your lips and left to get the food all ready and prepared. Something quick and easy to make.

--------

You set the food down and went to tell each of your unwelcome guests that food was ready. Sam and Bucky both quickly moved downstairs. Red pants from the clothes given over as well as their old shirts. Too bad you were hoping they would actually put on the whole outfit. With a snort you headed your way to Zemo's door and opened it to poke your head in. The room was dark except for a small light under the bathroom door. The sound of a shower cutting off echoing through the room.

You shut the door and leaned against it as you watched the bathroom door. Finally you were awarded with him coming out. A dusting of hair on a lithe muscled chest your prize for your patience. Your eyes tracing a few scars and the silver chain around his neck. Brown eyes met your own as the red trousers sat snugly at his hips. Your eyes trailing noticeably to curve of his waist. "Food is ready," you said finally as you met his eyes. On the bed side stand you could see that damn book. It was not even that good of an erotica book if you were honest.

"I assume they have already went down to eat?" He asked and his hair was beautiful slicked back with water. You smiled like a cat as you watched him stalk towards you. You nodded and as he got closer you decided to play a game.

"Come on we should get some food," you said with a chipper tone as you turned to open the door. You wondered how much of your reticence he would take before breaking down to do something? You did not have to wonder long for his hand pushed the door closed before his other hand wrapped around your arm. You were pushed flat against the door as he leaned closer. You looked up at his face shadowed from the light of the bathroom. It was an almost threatening look that made your skin shiver in anticipation. The dark look of a criminal mastermind. Or maybe just a previous soldier.

"Now who is the charming snake?" He whispered in your ear as his hand tightened on your arm. You fought with yourself not to touch him or to give in. This was part of the fun. "Or are you still waiting for me to taste you?" He husked in your ear before that quick tongue settled hotly up your ear. A groan leaving you at the feel as your hand went to settle on his chest.

"Bloody hell," you whispered as his lips moved in a caress like silk over the soft flesh of your neck. You pushed your nails in over the raised edge of a scar that felt like a knife slice. That same muffled growl that drove you crazy came from his throat as your nail ran over a nipple.

"Well are you not but a temptation," his voice was deliciously thick in his accent as your arm was quickly grabbed and pinned by your head. "A fruit I would love to taste and lick at my leisure." Wasn't that the most arousing imagery you have heard in your whole life. You could feel the arousal gathering like a damn inferno before his lips settled on your own. Not gentle like the time in the library. Your mouth opened to his slick tongue as he took his time to languidly explore your mouth. A groan left you as your tongue danced with his.

His hand was warm as it settled on your neck. Firm but in no way cutting off air flow. He parted first and you watched him with panting breaths. Your lips red and you smiled at him. "At least I finally got to taste a Baron," you teased and he chuckled. His nose rubbed against your own. "At least partly," you murmured as your free hand set on his stomach and moved down to the waistband. "We should go eat, Baron. I am famished." A hiss left between his teeth as your hand left him. His hand tightened over your own pinned to the wall.

"One last taste," he whispered and you met his rough kiss with the same fervor. He tasted good and his tongue was sly as it wrapped around your own. His fingers teased as he stepped back and his brown eyes smoldered in his promise for the night to come. All you knew was that if he decided to climb beneath your sheets you would not be mad in the slightest. You watched the muscles of his back move as he grabbed a t-shirt. Another scar catching your attention on his side. "And what is for dessert?" He asked as the shirt covered him from view.

"I have apples," you teased and wiped at your lips. The door opened and you followed him down the stairs to go to the kitchen. As you entered the kitchen you were not at all surprised to be subjected to judging stares. You just ignored them as you grabbed your own plate. A smirk on your lips that obviously showed what you were up too.

"Y'all two are gross," Sam muttered and you snickered as Zemo sat next to you. His own fingers moving to grab his food. Bucky swallowed his bite and looked between you two. He was a little more accepting over this than his uptight friend.

"I guess you figured out what he tasted like?" Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow. You hummed and nodded with your own teasing smirk.

"Cinnamon," you said while licking your lips. "Well at least his mouth was. Will let you know what the rest tastes like later if you like?" You giggled as the Baron choked on his sip in of water. Sam's disgust filled gag making you grin as Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Can we not talk about your sex life please?" Sam called with a groan and you swore you could see his skin flush. You smiled and shut your mouth with a nod. Better to back off for now you supposed. The sound of eating filled the room as you felt a hand settle on your leg. The fingers drawing symbols were more enthralling than you expected. Never leading close to where you wanted them. Your eyes checked on the Baron's profile. It was coldly professional. Bastard.

You envied such control honestly. The fact he could control his body language was impressive as hell. You blinked as you heard your name called. "Come again?" You asked politely as you focused on Sam. His eyes were of course judging you for what must have looked like you checking out the terrorist next to you.

"I asked how you knew Madripoor if it has such a fearsome reputation?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. You debated on what to say and if you should tell the truth. You barely withheld your jump as the fingers teased inside your legs. Dancing across your inner thigh in silky promises even through your trousers.

"Ah there was a market for cursed paintings that I had to get ahold of," you answered with a smile. You hoped they did not realize how strained it was.

"I am sorry did you say cursed paintings?" The soft voice of the Baron spoke and you looked towards him. Your eyes catching his. His head tilted to the side and you found it adorable.

"Happens more often than you think," you said with a chuckle. "Like Pickman's model. Lovecraft actually got a lot of things right if we want to get technical." The wide eyed stares you got made you laugh. "Well on that note we should get to bed yes? Hopefully my contact will get with me." The looks you received made you laugh as you stood up. His hand slipping from your inner thigh.

"Wait hold on!" Sam called out slightly horrified and you walked away with a smile to the fridge. An apple grabbed and bit into as you stared at the three. Your eyes catching Zemo's own as you licked up the juice from the bite.

"That's why we are here, Sam," you said with a chuckle. "The Masters of the Mystic Arts protect this world from monsters, demons, and Gods. Which is why I have no interest in mundane threats. Now we really need to get to bed." You took another bite of your apple as you felt his eyes burn and cut like a knife you you. You licked the juice of the apple that fell on your thumb before pulling it into your mouth. "I should also tell Strange you are here," you muttered and left the kitchen with your own chuckle. His eyes tracked you the whole way.

@joyfulinternettraitor

[jesus-christ-super-ace]

Self indulgent Haikyuu x debate!reader hcs because debate season is over and i suddenly have nothing to do

A/n: Idk the type of debate that they do in Japan so I'm gonna use the PF debate structure. (I heard about parlament style debate in Korea, I watched a video and it scared the fuck out of me) Also I don't know how to do the whole read more thing on mobile tumblr so ✨yikes✨

Characters: Hinata, Sugawara,

Warnings: Swearing, caps, mentions of death

Hinata

He has no idea what debate is, his thoughts only consists of volleyball and meat so when you bring up being on the debate team to him he's just kinda "👁👄👁 what's debate like?"

Since debate is hard to explain you decide to bring him along to one of your debate practices to watch.

A quick explanation of public forum (pf) debate: two teams of two take a pro and con stance on a resolution. (Example: Resolved: Sugawara is not the mom friend) Debaters work in pairs to make a pro and con case that they will present at their debate, for PF they usually have a month to prep their case. The case will usually be written in the style of an essay and will be read out as a speech to begin the debate. Debaters work in pairs so there's a speaker one and speaker two. Speaker one is in charge of laying out the topic and what grounds the team wins the debate on, and speaker two dishes out most of the arguments against the other sides. (Kind of like speaker one is defense while speaker two is offense) Basically pro gives their opening speech, con gives their opening speech, and the they ask each other questions and try to degrade the other side's case. Then the speaker twos give speeches on why their speaker one did better, then they butt heads. After that comes the speaker ones saying why they won, and finally comes the ultimate showdown, the final crossfire. The final crossfire is essentially just a big cat fight where we yell each other about morals. (Sorry Amanda but murder is worse than kidnapping 🙄) Then the speaker twos give a speech about why they're better. Your fate relies on the judge who has no idea what they're doing.

Did you get all of that? You probably didn't. TLDR: Four children scream about why their moral compass is better for about one hour.

You try to explain it to Hinata in volleyball terms and it's ✨hard✨

"Okay so the speaker one is kinda like the setter, they set up the attack on the other side by controlling the grounds that they win on-"

"But controlling the grounds is what Noya does-"

"Hinata it's a metaphor"

"What's a metaphor?"

😃 why

So you decide to bring him to your practice debates, during a normal debate you move around from classroom to classroom debating other kids from other schools carrying your case in a big ass box in stuffy casual formal wear at like 8 in the morning.

Practice debates are a lot chiller and there's a lot less yelling.

You were judging debates that day while the gym was having an inspection so he tagged along with you to watch the debates. He kinda gets lost after the con speech and you're like "yeah it can be like that sometimes".

He admires you for being able to do the whole debate thing (and win)

Since the winners of any debate comp are decided by judges (who usually have no experience) most teams value process over result. Even if you debate better they can still pick the other team because of a dumb reason like them liking the other team's shirt.

After every debate he takes you out to get snacks at Ukai's store, and he lets you rant about whatever unfair judge caused you to loose.

"oKAY BUT LIKE I TOTALLY WON, THE OTHER TEAM DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THEIR CASE TOGETHER" he just kinda smiles and nods, he doesn't get your debate terms but he still hypes you up

He makes sure to text you before he sleeps reminding you to not stay up too late researching your case.

Smth like 'i'm going to bed now :) pls don't stay up too late' smh hypocrite, he probably stays up till like 3 thinking abt becoming the tiny giant

One time your debate clothes (black dress pants, white dress shirt, blazer) got dirty and so did your school uniform so he gave you his clothes. He's kinda small so it's a tight fit but it works.

HE BRAGS ABOUT YOU TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE

"hEy look at my super smart s/o who does dEBATE!"

"we know y/n does debate"

Best ray of sunshine 🥺

Suga

ohohoho,,, im a certified suga simp

Now we all know that Suga is pretty smart, he's not a super genius or anything but he's got good grades and he can probably manage his time.

Which means that he's good at helping your research and revise your case. Whenever you can't come up with any contentions he's always there to help you come up with some.

"Kōshi what're the benefits of the urbanization of West Africa?" (I can't find anything on the debate topics in Japan so I'm using stuff from my previous debates)

"Lessening of poverty, standards of health can be raised, and it benefits the world."

HES PERFECT OK

He's probably even joined you for a debate once when your partner couldn't make it to the competition, he makes a pretty good speaker one but he's definitely a speaker two.

His framework for every case is just 🤌🤌🤌

Research dates with him are just 🥺

You guys are sprawled out on his bed just scrolling through resources trying to put together a case.

You go to all of his games and he goes to support you during your debates. Before every speech you give he sends you a small thumbs up to boost your spirits.

He's super observant and can tell when the judge is full of shit.

Tbh if the other team wins because the judge was stupid even though you

He's too good for us smh

Yachi

PLS

YACHI I LOVE HER

okokok

here's the thing with yachi, she's great at writing cases and she'd honestly be a good asset to the team however,,,

she can't do public speaking for shit

so she cheers you on from the sidelines and helps you out with your case

she can't really do public speaking herself because of her nerves but she knows how to convince an audience so she lets you practice her speeches

she once volunteered to help the team for a mock debate by subbing in for someone who couldn't make practice that day due to getting sick, she got scared during her speech and panicked.

weekly study dates are a must, whether it be for debate or just school in general weekly study dates at a local café or at a library

she brought hinata and yams to watch you debate once and now they're both scared of you (look final crossfire is scary as hell)

i think she'd be a (slightly less than) decent cook bUT she's good at baking, so she always offers to stop by before practice to drop off snacks

the team loves her and half of them join the yachi protection squad (started by noya and tanaka probably)

im just v 🥺🥺🥺 rn lmao

a/n,,, lmao i havent written in a while, if u need a better explanation of how debate works then feel free to ask !

[writersrealmbts]

Clearwater Springs: Part 5

Description: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: I suppose I should point out that there’s a lot of innuendos coming in the next couple chapters

Posted: 11/11/2020

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,787 words

A/N: Dang this took forever

Previous ~ Next

Jin had accepted Hoseok returning with the two of you easily, even accepting Hoseok’s excuse of “I feel as though my path lies alongside yours at the moment.”

More surprising was the fact that Hoseok boldly brought up soulmates in the car on the way home. “Seokjin-hyung, what do you know about soulmates?”

“Oh…well…a little I guess. The basics.” Jin shrugged. “Some enchanteds have a soulmate or soulmates, others don’t.”

Hoseok hummed in response from the driver's seat. He’d offered to drive because Jin looked half dead after today's settlements, and then almost passed out when you simply hummed. Hoseok was a good driver too. Conscientious.

“Why?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Not sure. Let you know if I figure it out.”

Jin nodded. “Scale of 1-10, how upset do you think Namjoon will be when we arrive home and he sees me?”

“Hmm, because it’s you...nine,” You answered, smiling.

His ears turned red. “Oh please, he would be upset if it were anyone. Like you.”

“Nope.”

“False,” Hoseok chimed in, a laugh in his voice.

“You don’t even know him,” Jin objected, voice rising in pitch to object it further.

“He’s still correct. We all know that Namjoon is a big softie for you, and Hoseok can see the future so he probably saw it,” You argued. “Who are you to say that he’s wrong?”

Jin huffed and grumbled, but didn’t try to argue with you two further.

Hoseok parked the car, peering out at the house with an astonished look. “How many bedrooms?”

“Eight,” Jin answered, yawning. “Come on, they’ll think we’re weirdos if we wait out here.”

Hoseok got out, but seemed to be nervous now. “They’ll like me, right?” He whispered, catching up to you as you got your bag from the trunk.

“Of course, you’re our soulmate,” You whispered back, patting his shoulder. “Come on, they don’t bite. Okay, well, Yoongi might but that’s because he’s a cat half the time.”

Then you noticed a brown-gray tabby on the porch railing, watching Hoseok with narrowed, golden eyes that reflected the sunlight.

“That would be him,” You murmured, nodding toward him.

Jin didn’t even think about it, petting Yoongi’s head.

“Cute,” Hoseok breathed, looking like he was vibrating with nervousness and excitement.

Yoongi didn’t move to follow until you and Hoseok were following Jin into the house.

Namjoon met all of you in the hallway, almost knocking Jin over when he hugged him. “You’re exhausted.”

“You’re knocking me over,” Jin whined, stumbling back against the wall. “At least let me lean on you.”

Namjoon let Jin maneuver both of them so that they were more comfortably and stably situated, resting his chin on Jin’s shoulder afterward. “You do seem less tired than normal. Much less tired,” He murmured, smiling at you.

You gave him a thumbs up, then gestured to Hoseok. “We brought home a new friend.”

Yoongi had shifted into a human, and he looked sort of grumpy. “Another one?”

“We have the space. It’s not like you’ve taken a bedroom, and Jungkook didn’t seem to know what to do with the idea of having his own room. Even if both of you took a room, we would still have three rooms left over, which means space for Hoseok,” You reasoned, stepping forward and fixing his hair.

His frown deepened, eyes narrowing on Hoseok.

“Do you want a room?” You asked carefully, continuing playing with his hair because he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He stiffened. “Why are you here?” He hissed at Hoseok.

Hoseok, for his part, was just smiling. “Adorable. You’re adorable. I had a feeling, I trust my feelings. They led me here, for now at least.”

Yoongi looked petrified, putting you between him and Hoseok a little, and causing Hoseok to laugh a little.

You suppressed a giggle.

Namjoon met your gaze, eyes darting to Hoseok.

You nodded slightly.

Namjoon’s eyes lit up and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he just hugged Seokjin tighter. “Come on, hyung, let me get you in bed.”

Yoongi snorted.

Seokjin choked and batted at Namjoon. “Phrasing.”

“I said what I meant,” Namjoon replied, confused. “You need a nap, and the best place for that is in bed?”

Seokjin, ears and neck red, started dragging him away. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you said, you’re not that naive of a haltija.”

Namjoon just followed after, still looking confused. “But I really don’t know….”

“Just stop!” Jin said, dragging him upstairs.

Hoseok chuckled. “Okay, but isn’t there another person living here?”

“JUngkook,” You told him. “Is he in his bottle?”

Yoongi nodded, gaze drifting back to Hoseok. “He was up all night playing that game Jin introduced him to.”

“Of course he was,” You sighed.

Namjoon came back down before you could say anything more, Jungkook in tow (who didn’t look tired, did djinn get tired?). “Hyung fell asleep before he even finished laying down. This is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Hoseok.”

Hoseok grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook shyly dipped his head in greeting as well, but he had a quiet, secretive smile.

Yoongi growled slightly. “What is up with all of you? What are you hiding?”

You froze for a second.

Then Hoseok laughed and reached out, taking Yoongi’s hand, his sleeve rolled up so that the soulmark on his arm was visible as he took hold of Yoongi’s hand and the mark filled in.

Yoongi stared, then his eyes widened. “Wait...wait…hold on….”

“We’re soulmates,” Hoseok chuckled. “Me, you, y/n, Namjoon, Jungkook, Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

“Who are Jimin and Taehyung?” Jungkook asked in a whisper, looking confused.

“Later,” you whispered back.

Yoongi shook his head. “Try that again?”

“Soulmates,” Namjoon said, showing Yoongi Jungkook’s mark since his own was on his shoulder and he probably didn’t feel like stripping and freaking Namjoon out.

Yoongi traced it, then looked at yours after you’d rolled your sleeve up and out of the way. He breathed in slowly, then let it all out at once. “Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” You said gently, smiling.

He slowly nodded, then met your gaze. “Who are Jimin and Taehyung?”

“Well….” You let your sleeve fall back down to your wrist. “I haven’t met Taehyung yet. Hoseok just knows that he’s one of ours, the one we haven’t found yet. Jimin is a fairy-incubus that’s hiding in the library for safety because both species he comes from bully him for having soulmates.”

“Is that why I was leaving food in there?” Namjoon asked, eyes wide. “I just thought you were hiding some sort of pet there or something.”

You shook your head. “We were gone three days and you think I was keeping a pet there? Seokjin figured out there was a person hiding in there the day before we left.”

Yoongi huffed. “I knew I smelled something weird in there! You called me crazy!”

“I thought it was just a pet! I mean, we already deal with the bird that follows her everywhere and now Parsley won’t leave the library, thanks to you.”

“I told you! She just followed me when I was taking the new donations over! It’s not my fault she stayed to explore and then decided that that was her new home!”

You looked back and forth between them. “Which one of you is telling Jin that his beloved kitten has decided not to come home?”

They quickly pointed at each other.

You sighed. “Okay. Now, Jin doesn’t know that we’re soulmates, we’re still waiting for the appropriate time. I’m going to go unpack books and check on Jimin.”

“I’m coming with you,” Yoongi said firmly. “As a cat, one of my other forms. I’ll sneak in. Hopefully he doesn’t notice me and I can get a look at the interloper.”

You hesitated. “I...don’t know….”

“You’re hoping to have everyone together before you tell Jin, right? Make sure he loves all of us before breaking the news.” Yoongi folded his arms. “Because he’s human, and less likely to understand than I am.”

You all exchanged looks, trying to figure out whether to confirm that or not. Was that the reason all of you were hesitating? Or was it because all of you were afraid of him rejecting you and then being homeless?

Namjoon sighed. “I’ve been living with Jin for forever and I still don’t know how to tell him.”

“Tell Jin what?” A grumpy voice asked from behind all of you.

Panic. Sheer panic.

Jin leaned against Namjoon’s back. “Did you break my great-great-grandmother’s china or something?”

“Uh…”

“I was joking. The china is my great-great-great-great grandmother’s and it’s worth more than me,” Jin chuckled, obviously too sleepy to see how that just seemed to panic Namjoon more. “I thought you told me everything, Joonie? And I thought you were going to nap with me?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Namjoon replied, voice definitely panicked.

Jin pouted, leaving Namjoon’s back. “I was, but then I got cold and you weren’t there.”

Namjoon blinked a few times. “Uh...I ran into Jungkook and he heard a new person and was too afraid to come down alone, so I came down with him to introduce him to Hoseok. I was going to come back, we were just talking.”

“About?” Jin asked, looking at the rest of you.

“Uh….”

Hoseok pointed at Namjoon. “How he’s in love with you.”

All of you stared at Hoseok for a moment.

Jin blinked. “Yeah, okay, was that the secret? Because...it’s not exactly a secret. Why else would we be sharing a bedroom on and off for the past year?”

Namjoon looked at Jin. “What?”

“Oh please, you kiss me every time you get drunk. It’s cute. Now, come on. I need a nap and I need someone warm.” Jin pulled a shocked Namjoon back upstairs, again.

“We’ve kissed?!”

“Every time you get drunk. Or tipsy. Sometimes when you’re half-asleep. One time when you were sleepwalking. Oh, and then there was the time with the cherries and….” Jin’s voice faded out of your hearing, still chatting away.

“How did you know that would work?” Yoongi asked quietly, eyes wide as he stared after them.

“I didn’t,” Hoseok breathed, then let out a laugh. “How do we know that Jin doesn’t already know?”

“We don’t. Not anymore,” You replied, tugging your hair in agitation. “Okay. Books. I’m going to go organize books before something crazier happens. Jungkook, can you show Hoseok the empty rooms so he can pick one out?”

Jungkook nodded, eyes still wide and shocked.

You nodded, setting your bags to the side and headed out the front door.

The quiet path to the library was refreshing after the chaotic camp of fortune tellers. They’d been friendly, and when they got too friendly Hoseok stepped in, but the whole place was chaotic. Lots of people, lots of talking, lots of arguing.

The shadows of the library beckoned you, and you took a deep breath before turning the lights on.

“Hello,” You whispered to the books, and then you noticed.

All of the books were on the shelves, except for the books you hadn’t unpacked and some carefully organized books on the desk.

You went to the desk, noticing that they were all marked as the section they needed to be, and a piece of paper was sticking out of each of them with numbers.

“I numbered all of them,” Jimin said softly, landing gently behind you. “In alphabetical order. To make it easier.”

You looked to the shelves, noticing all of the books had similar papers sticking out of them. “All of them?!”

He nodded.

You turned back to him, smiling. “How can I ever repay you?” You asked softly, stepping closer and lightly touching his cheek.

He looked embarrassed. “You don’t have to repay me. You let me stay here and you had someone bring me food.”

“Are you the reason the kitten has abandoned the house?” You asked, smiling as Parsley hopped onto the desk and mewled at him.

He smiled sheepishly and picked her up. “I’ve just been petting her.”

You shook your head and turned back to the computer, catching a glimpse of Yoongi slipping into the library but staying in the shadows, his dark tabby fur blending into the books and shelves. “Corrupting a kitten with cuddles, can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“I’ve got lots of talent,” Jimin replied easily. “How was your trip?”

“Hectic, but enjoyable.”

“And did you….”

“Did I...what?” You asked, logging into the computer and then starting to input the books.

“Did you spend every night with him? Sing to him every night?”

You smiled and turned back toward your winged soulmate. “I did sing to him every night, and we did share a tent. But my bed was on one side of the tent and his was on the other. And tonight, I’m going to sleep in my waters, so...take from that what you will. Are you still determined not to come home with me and formally meet the rest of our soulmates?”

He looked at the ceiling, fluttering up to sit on the desk. “Namjoon is one of them? And so is Seokjin?”

“And Jungkook, the djinn. And Yoongi. And I just brought home Hoseok. He’s one of our soulmates too.”

“That’s a lot of people,” He whispered.

“I think you need a lot of people who will love you,” You whispered. “Because you’ve been rejected by everyone else that should have. Your species. Your family.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he held Parsley closer.

You stepped closer and cupped his face in your hands, wiping the tears that fell despite himself. “Please come home to us?”

Yoongi hopped up onto the desk, rubbing against his back.

Jimin flinched and then pet him as well, obviously struggling with his thoughts and feelings.

“You’d have your own room, and there’s one by the back staircase that would allow you easy access to a door that leads outside, and all of the windows open and are probably big enough for you to escape through.” You told him, wiping a few more tears. “You wouldn’t have to do anything you were uncomfortable doing. At least, I wouldn’t make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. Namjoon wouldn’t either, or Yoongi or Jungkook. Hoseok might be a bit of a different story and I’m honestly unable to predict things about Jin, he’s a bit of a wild card. And then there’s the last one that we haven’t found yet, but hopefully...hopefully soon.”

Jimin chewed his lip. “I’m not last?”

“You’re not. Not for me.”

Jimin then frowned and looked at Yoongi. “Wait, is this a werecat? Is this the werecat? The one you were holding?”

“Yoongi. He’s got a mind of his own.”

Yoongi stepped lightly over to you.

You scooped him up as you released Jimin’s face.

Yoongi purred in your arms, blinking slowly at Jimin.

“See, he’s a werecat, doesn’t even have a soulmark himself, and he still likes you already.”

Jimin laughed huffily for a moment, obviously amazed you even tried a line like that.

“Y/n?”

Jimin flew away in a flash at the unfamiliar voice.

Hoseok came bouncing into the library, then stopped and gaped. “It’s beautiful.”

You smiled and waited as he raced around, touching the spines of books and just looking...in awe of everything.

“I’ve never seen so many in one place,” He breathed as he joined you at the desk.

And the shelves weren’t even half-full.

You smiled. “It’s a start. Hopefully these shelves will be full one day. In the meantime….”

“We should make a book,” Hoseok said impulsively, then blinked. “Sorry. That came out of nowhere.”

“What kind of book should we make?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think...I don’t know. Not right now. We need more time. We need to all do it separately. We’ll all be different.” His eyes started to get a hazy look to them. “All different. All same. Our story. Different….”

You set Yoongi down and went over to make sure Hoseok was okay. “Hoseok?”

He shuddered and then tugged you into a firm hug. “Different. Different. Paper planes. Follow the bird. Don’t follow the bird. The fox? No. Follow the fishes, floating floating floating. No more. No more. Mo nore. Narro noster narratio. Pingo noster narratio. Complico. Complico complico.” His eyes were completely white.

You bit your lip, uncertain what to do.

Then he kissed you, both hands holding your face, lips pressed gently to yours, just there.

And when he pulled away, you wanted to follow, but his hands prevented it and held you in place.

Yoongi was in human form, staring wide-eyed and pink-cheeked.

And Jimin was watching from the rafters with a similar expression.

Hoseok pressed his forehead to yours after looking at you with white eyes for a moment before they slowly faded back to his own.

Then he started collapsing.

Jimin and Yoongi caught him.

Jimin stared at Hoseok’s profile as the seer gave a soft sigh and drifted off to sleep, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder.

Yoongi sighed. “Okay, well...he’s cute. I’ll give him that. But what’s with the white eyes and nonsense?”

You rolled your eyes. “Such a grump. You realize unless Jimin agrees to come with us back to the house it’s you and me carrying him?”

Yoongi looked desperately at Jimin.

Jimin shivered and then slowly nodded. “I’ll come with you--but I don’t...I need space.”

You nodded. “We’ll take him up the back way. With any luck Jin is still sleeping. And if he isn’t, I’ll start singing.”

“And put the rest of us to sleep as well?” Yoongi objected.

“It doesn’t put me to sleep,” Jimin said, slightly smugly, slightly defensively.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

Jimin scooped Hoseok up on his own. “Go on. Lead on.”

You nodded and pulled Yoongi along.

No one intercepted your group, and soon you were tucking Hoseok in. Kissing his forehead and making sure he was sleeping deeply before you slipped back out into the hallway.

Jimin was looking at a painting on the wall opposite Hoseok’s room.

Yoongi shrugged at you, then walked away, shifting as he went.

“Jimin,” You said softly.

He looked back at you, but immediately put his attention back on the painting. “The rising of Aurora, goddess of dawn. This painting is 200 years old. And it’s the original.”

“You...like painting? Or art?” You asked, hoping for some insight into him.

He shrugged. “I just...I know this one. It was in one of the books I had as a kid.”

“I bet you were an adorable kid.”

He snorted, turning to you. “Were you ever a kid?”

You nodded. “I don’t remember much, but yes. My kind don’t just pop into existence. What’s special about this picture aside from it’s remarkable age?”

He laughed breathily, looking at it again. “It was said that there were several meanings to the painting, that everyone who viewed it had a different aspect of it that they focused on. Some saw it as hopeful, others saw it as vengeful. A goddess bringing the light of a new day, a goddess riding to war with the fury of dawn.”

“What do you see?”

He was silent for a moment, then he stared hard at you. “I see you.”

“Me?”

He looked away and nodded.

You looked the painting over, but you didn’t see vengeance or fury. And you definitely didn’t see yourself.

“Which rooms are empty?” He asked quietly.

You gestured down the hall toward the back staircase. “Take your pick.”

He nodded and started exploring. “What about the house owner? What will you tell him?”

“Seokjin? The truth. Our library interloper has finally been convinced to take a bed, and safety, and food. Hope you eat, because I eat once a day and Jin makes food all the time. It’s like a compulsion. Settle in, wherever you decide to. I need to go soak.”

Jimin nodded, staying in front of one of the rooms after peeking in. “I’m....gonna get my things.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later tonight, or in the morning.” You smiled softly at him, then headed toward your room.

Jin, Namjoon, Jungkook and Yoongi were in your sitting room, obviously waiting for you.

You closed the door casually, listening for a moment and hearing another door closing.

“He’s going out a window,” Yoongi murmured.

You nodded then sat down. “Okay, is this an intervention?”

Jin shook his head. “This door was the only open one when Yoongi waved at us to hide.”

You nodded. “Got it. Jimin is an incubus and fairy, he very very reluctantly agreed to come here. Try to give him space, but not too much. I really need to go soak, I feel...dry.” You shuddered. “Oh, and maybe check on Hoseok in a bit. He had a weird sort of vision attack.”

“Okay,” Namjoon replied. “Do you think he’d be okay with me greeting him?”

“You’re the house Haltija, I think he’ll accept it once he knows that’s what you are. Just...be gentle,” Yoongi murmured, staring out the window.

Jin absently stroked Yoongi’s head, as he got up. “We will. I’ll hold off for now. Let Namjoon talk to him next and Jungkook and I will go make dinner. Don’t forget to invite him to eat with us, Joonie.”

Namjoon nodded.

You grabbed your comb and headed downstairs behind Jungkook and Jin, passing them in the kitchen to enter the basement and indulge in a nice, long, luxurious soak in your own waters. It took you quite a while to remember which part did what, and for the water to fill the large basin. Messing with knobs and levers to remember what did what, and pulling a new dress out of the water for when you were done soaking. Velvet this time. Beautiful.

You climbed into the basin after dimming the lights, not bothering to undress until you were well into the waters, and then letting the fabric slide off of your shoulders with the pressure of the falling water and dissolve.

Turning to sit on the basin’s edge to comb your hair and sing and seeing Jimin and Jin staring before Jin grabbed Jimin by the wings and dragged him away.

“I told you not to come down here!”

You smirked after them as you started singing, running a gold comb through your hair and becoming one with your waters again while thinking of the embarrassed faces of your soulmates.

–

Survey Results used for this chapter

–

Pre-Chapter 7 Survey

Previous.  Next.

Masterlist.  Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist:  @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld​ @cheese123344​ @insfirebunny​ @crookedstarlitnight​ @aphot-c​ @chim-possible​  @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Finding Home

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a good short here on tumblr, and after @rainbowratsstuff posted some wonderful art of my OCs, Quasi and Jitterbug, and her OC, Quill, I was inspired to finally write a short about our little group of runaways joining the Jellicles!

basically this short is an excuse for me to write Protective!Big Brother Quasi with his adoptive sisters Quill and Jitterbug.

(also I now have the HC that Quill pretends like she just sticks with Quasi and Jitterbug just because, but in reality she actually really cares about them, and if anything were to happen to them she’d raise absolute hell to hurt whoever hurt them)

(and Quasi knows this so whenever Quill’s just like “I don’t like you, you’re a means to an end” he’s just like “yeah, okay, Jitterbug wants to cuddle” and Quill grumbles but will not refuse to cuddle Jitterbug)

(also tagging @queen-with-the-quill because the storyline of Munkustrap inviting Quasi to join the Jellicles, and Quasi and Jubilee fighting henchcats is from one of our RPs! And obviously because of Jubilee😅)

“Quasi, I don’t know about this.”

Quasi glanced back at the grey queen crouching on the trash can, and he gave her a small smile. “I know, Quill. But after what happened at the library, I don’t want you girls out in the open.”

Quill rolled her eyes, crossing her paws as she rested her head down. “I can take care of myself. We all can, you know that.”

“I do.” Quasi said, lifting himself up on his hind legs so that he was eye-level with the other queen. “But I wouldn’t forgive myself if you or Jitter got hurt because of me. Macavity’s out there, and so are his henchcats. They’re searching for me and other deserters. I don’t know why, but the Jellicles can offer some kind of safety to us.”

Jitterbug poked her head around the trashcan, her eyes darting around the alley nervously. “A-Are you s-sure it’s safe?”

“Jitterbug’s right. What if it’s some kind of trap?” Quill agreed. “You’ve never spoken to the Jellicles for real before, you don’t know them, Quasi.”

Quasi sighed, returning to the ground and sitting back, gesturing for Jitterbug to join him. She immediately darted over to him, huddling into him, and Quasi nuzzled her as he looked up at Quill. “It’s risky, Quill. I know that, believe me. And honestly, I’m not one hundred percent sure about this either. I don’t even know if that tabby was telling the truth that I’d be totally welcome in the Junkyard.” He looked down, pawing at the ground as the scar across his nose twinged. “And honestly, I wouldn’t blame them if I wasn’t welcome. But if there’s a chance that you and Jitter can be safe and off these streets while Macavity’s looking for me, then I’m going to take that chance.”

Quill scowled, but she left the trash can, brushing against Quasi briefly. “Fine. But if they try to hurt you, we’re out of there.”

“Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the one protecting you two!” the Bengal tom protested as he nudged Jitterbug along. 

Any bravado Quasi felt slowly began to ebb away as he, Quill, and Jitterbug grew closer to the Junkyard. All he could think about was his previous time at the Junkyard, and the disaster that had happened. 

He was known as Slip back then, before Esmeralda had found him and given him his First, and Favored, Name. 

“Look at them.” Macavity sneered as he loomed over a pile of junk. His yellow eyes were filled with hatred as he glared at the Jellicles gathered below them. “Acting so perfect, as if their lives are so much better.”

He stuck near the back of the henchcat group as the plan was laid out; Macavity would cut the power to the Junkyard, plunging the Jellicles into darkness, and the henchcats would attack.

Fang, one of Macavity’s seconds, glanced up as one of the kittens squealed with laughter. “We’ll get in position, sir.”

Macavity held up a paw as Slip began to move away. “You’re not going with them.” Slip looked up at him with wide eyes, and Macavity’s face grew a terrifying grin. “I’ve got a job for you, Slip.” He drew the smaller tom to his side, and pointed towards two large Jellicles, a silver and black tabby, and a black and gold maine coon. “My dearest brothers. They wouldn’t dare harm a cat smaller than them, or helpless.”

“You... you want me to fight your brothers, sir?” Slip stammered out, unable to believe what his leader was telling him.

“Munkustrap’s bleeding heart won’t allow him to hurt a defenseless little tom.” Macavity said, a gleam in his eyes. “And little Tugger’s a father now, he’s got priorities.” Slip’s mind was reeling, but the feeling of Macavity’s claws digging into his side brought his attention back to his leader. “Do you hear me, Slip? Will you obey?”

Slip took a breath, and nodded. “Yes sir. I won’t let you down.”

He didn’t let Macavity down. And Slip hated himself for it.

The second the lights had gone out, Slip had run into the Junkyard amidst the terrified cries and shouts, running past kittens and adult Jellicles as their magical cat brought the lights back up. Too soon, Slip found himself in front of the Jellicle Protector and his brother, and for a moment, he froze. But then he reminded himself that he was more terrified of Macavity than he was of the Mystery Cat’s brothers’, so he launched himself at them, startling the two large toms out of their shock, and causing Munkustrap’s paw to lash out across Quasi’s face, a deep cut forming across his nose. 

“Q-Quasi?” Jitterbug’s voice startled the Bengal from his memories, making his ears pin back against his head, and he looked at the other queen. “We’re he-here.”

The entrance to the Jellicles’ Junkyard loomed above the trio, and the two queens stepped closer to Quasi as he moved in front of them.

The one-eyed tom looked at Jitterbug and Quill firmly. “The first sign of danger, you both run for Esmeralda’s house, okay?” Both queens began to protest, but he held up a paw. “That isn’t a request. I don’t know how they’re going to react. So if something does happen, I’ll do my best to hold them off so you both can escape.”

Quill scoffed, but nodded, and Quasi gave her a brief nuzzle of thanks. He knew the other queen hated not sticking together, even though it was slightly amusing how different her thoughts were from when she had first met him and Jitterbug. When they had first met, she had been frightened and hostile, not even coming near Quasi or Jitterbug, and it had taken nearly a month of helping her find meals and shelter before she would even talk to either of them. Now they were inseparable, and Quasi wouldn’t let anything happen to either of the queens beside him, not on his watch.

“Who are you?” a voice called out, and all three tensed as a tom leapt down in front of them. It was a black and white tom who towered over them, and there was suspicion in his eyes. 

“We’re here to see Munkustrap.” Quasi said, wishing he had his tail so that he could sweep Jitterbug and Quill behind him protectively. He settled for placing his paw in front of the two queens, and planting himself between them and the tom, even though the tom was twice his size.

The guard looked down at him, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he studied Quasi. “I recognize you.” Quasi shifted his weight back at his words. “You’ve come to the Junkyard before.”

The trio was prepared to bolt, but another voice chimed in. “Alonzo, it’s alright.” The silver tabby that joined them bumped his shoulder with the tense guard’s in greeting, and gave the new arrivals a once-over. “Hello again, Quasi.”

Quasi’s large ears went back against his head, and he looked down at the ground. “Hello, Munkustrap.”

“May I ask who your companions are?” Munkustrap asked, glancing behind the Bengal at the two queens, giving them a friendly smile. Jitterbug ducked down, making herself as tiny as possible, and Quill simply hissed at him, as tense as the black and white guard standing at Munkustrap’s shoulder. She still did not trust the toms standing before them, and she most definitely did not like the way they were making Quasi behave. 

“My sisters, Jitterbug and Quill.” Quasi replied, his voice quiet, and nowhere near the confident tone that Quill and Jitterbug were used to hearing. “I know the invitation was just for me, but Jitterbug and Quill are the only family I’ve got, and they’re honestly in even more danger if I’m not around, because they could get attacked the minute I leave them, and I can’t just up and leave them behind.”

Munkustrap’s smile grew slightly. “It’s alright, Quasi. They’re welcome to join the tribe as well.” The black and white tom gave Munkustrap a look, but the tabby shook his head. “This is Alonzo, by the way, one of the other guards around here. I’ve told the guards, as well as my father and brother, about what happened at the library.” Quasi pawed at the ground, his nerves growing tense, but Jitterbug huddled into his side, and he took a breath. 

He looked back up at Alonzo and Munkustrap and steeled himself. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“Of course.” Munkustrap replied. “Now, follow us.” 

As Alonzo and Munkustrap let the trio of (frighteningly) small cats into the Junkyard, they took notice of the way the two queens stuck close to the tom, and the way Quasi’s ears remained pinned against his head, and how Quill’s ears flicked in every direction each time there was a new noise, and how Jitterbug’s tail was wrapped around Quasi’s very short one (that seemed to have been cut off by... something...)

They entered thee main stage area of the Junkyard, where many of the Jellicles were gathered, and Quasi was again hit by the memory of his one and only time in the Junkyard.

Before he could be caught up in the memory, there was a loud cry of “SLIP”, and Quasi was tackled to the ground by two calico blurs, and Quill jumped to Jitterbug’s side with an angry growl, her fangs bared, and Jitterbug’s fur raising up.

Quasi shook his head from the impact, trying to refocus, and when he was able to realize who had tackled him, his eye widened with shock and a tiny bit of happiness. “No way.”

“Everlasting, we never thought we’d be seeing you again!” Rumpleteazer exclaimed, cackling with excitement. 

Mungojerrie nodded in agreement, a bright grin on his face. “We thought you were a goner after hearing what Macavity did to you!”

“Gee, thanks.” Quasi said blandly, kicking the twins off of him. Mungojerrie simply grabbed the smaller tom in a headlock, snickering as he tried to escape. “Yup, I haven’t missed you two at all.”

As he attempted to get away from the male calico, Quasi could see Munkustrap speaking with some of the adult Jellicles, no doubt explaining who he was and his predicament, as well as who the two queens with him were, and his mood dampened slightly.

“Cheshire, let Quasi go.” an exasperated voice said. 

“Curls!” Mungojerrie said happily, instantly letting Quasi out of his grasp. Quasi stepped away, feeling Jitterbug and Quill at his sides, and he gave a thankful look to Jubilee, who gave him a welcoming smile. 

“Sorry about that. Ever since I told him you were coming, he and Teaz haven’t stopped talking about your time together.” she explained. 

A grey and red queen was with Jubilee, and she gave Quasi a curious look. “I can promise you’re safe here.” She nodded towards Quill, who had her paw wrapped around Quasi’s arm, and Jitterbug, who was looking around. “All three of you are safe here. I’m Hestia, by the way. Uncle Straps told us you’d be coming after you saved Jojo.”

“Did you really fight of Fang and his groupies?” Rumpleteazer asked, batting Mungojerrie away, and Quasi couldn’t help but grin. 

“With Jubilee’s help, yeah.” he replied, nodding. “His face was hilarious.” Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer laughed, and Jubilee’s smile grew. 

At the sound of laughter, Jitterbug jumped, and Quasi wrapped his arm around the small queen, pulling her close to comfort her, and she looked up at him hopefully. He looked at Quill, and gave her a reassuring look, and she simply shrugged. Quasi knew it would take time for all three of them to be able to fully feel relaxed and welcome among the Jellicles, and within the Junkyard, but for now, they were safe, and that was all that mattered to Quasi. 

Macavity couldn’t get to him, or the ones he loved, anymore.

[banditthewriter]

Get Out Alive - Billy Russo

Here we have the Halloween fic that I’ve been working on all month and then FORGOT TO POST! Like a dumbass. But anyways! Here we go.

Warning: Violence, stressful situations, more violence.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The envelope was golden, your name and addressed penned in an elegant script in black. It was mixed in with your water bill and a reminder of your yearly gyno appointment. Both of those were tossed onto the coffee table before you turned the golden envelope over.

A red wax seal held it shut. The insignia was a skull. You carefully pulled on the ribbon tab to open the envelope. Inside was a glossy black index card.

As you toed off your heels, you read over the invitation. 

Y/N Y/L/N, 

You are cordially invited to a dinner at the Wellman's Manor on All Hallow's Eve.

Following the dinner there will be a mystery guest and an announcement of great magnitude. Your presence has been requested. 

The invitation held no signature, just the address to the old Wellman's Manor, a note about it being a black tie affair, and the time you should arrive. You read it twice just in case you'd missed something. 

Jesus. This was almost too good to be true. You pulled your phone out of your purse and dialed your best friend as you headed down the hall and into your bedroom. 

"Hey Janine, do you remember me telling you that someone was refurbishing the old Wellman's Manor?"

"I love when you start halfway into a conversation," Janine grumbled, then laughed immediately afterward. "Of course, you could barely contain yourself and wondered if they were going to open up for tours."

"Well apparently they are opening up for something. I got an invitation to a dinner there. There's going to be a mystery guest and some big announcement."

Janine made the appropriate oohs and aahs as you told her about it, but you knew it was for your benefit. She didn't have your interest in the history of that house.

"It's on Halloween. Do you realize how creepy that is? Isn't this the 150th anniversary of the murders?"

It was, actually. And that was part of the draw, to be completely honest. Who didn't love a house with a murderous past? And the many tales of ghostly visions over the years.

"This is just the distraction I need right now," you said with a sigh as you settled onto the edge of your bed.

Work was a disaster, your family was driving your crazy, and your love life was a train wreck. The only thing you had was your cat and Janine.

"Just be careful Y/N," Janine warned from a distance, your mind already working on an outfit for the dinner, "I don't want you to get in over your head."

"Of course, definitely not."

------

The dress was stellar. It fit you just right, the lacy black material folded over the black satin to give waves and extra length. You tugged on a dressy overcoat and buckled into your shoes. 

Everything was perfect. Your hair was styled, your make up was subdued but looked good. You had painted your nails black with some silver glitter at the top. All in all, you looked like you were going to a very fancy funeral. 

You grabbed your clutch. The clock showed that it had just turned five thirty when there was a honk outside. 

Your ride was right on time.

The driver had opened the door to the backseat by time you got out there. You smiled and thanked him, but he didn't react.

Odd.

Whoever it was that put together the dinner had spared no expense. They had sent a car that had champagne in the back. You didn't touch it, wanting to be completely aware of every moment you were in the house.

It was about twenty minutes to the Manor, so you sat back and fiddled with your phone. Janine had asked you to stay in touch with her so you sent her a picture of you in the town car. 

You decided to do a little research into the company that held the lease on the property. You'd seen their name in the paper a few times when the sale first happened. Oddly enough you hadn't seen anything about it being open to the public, but maybe that's what this was about. 

You'd entered your name into a raffle to win a piece of the original furniture of the house. Maybe that was tied into this.

The company didn't have much to go on except that they restored historical landmarks to their formal glory. As you clicked to see a list of their previous work, your phone refused to load.

You knew you had unlimited data so it shouldn't be that. Instead of worrying about it, you put your phone into your clutch. 

Right on time too. As you did, the car went around a curve and the Wellman's Manor was visible. It was massive, three stories and an unknown number of rooms. It was a Gothic Victorian mansion rather than a Manor, but the Wellman family had another larger home in the south somewhere. 

Well they used to have one. This was the home where the entire family and their party guests were killed. It was a well known piece of history in these parts.

The driver stopped in front of the long set of stairs that led to the porch. He came around and opened the door for you, his hand gesturing up the stairs. 

As you started up them, the car pulled away. You wanted to ask him where you needed to go, but you figured someone else would be there. 

You went to the porch first, your eyes wide as you took it all in. It was beautiful. There were sculptures instead of columns.

At the door, you tried to large handle, but the door didn't budge. In the middle of either door was a dragon's head with a knocker in its mouth. You used that to knock on the door.

Moments later, the door opened up. A man bowed at you before he led you in.

He was also silent as he took your jacket and placed it in a coat room off the foyer. Then he led you into a sitting room where you saw a large group of people waiting.

And you recognized some of them. 

That was Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. And was that… yeah, Frank Castle. There was a woman with him that had her back to you, so you weren't sure who it was.

In the corner was that PI, what was her name... Jessica Jones. She's wasn't wearing a dress, because that would have been terrifying. And she was still wearing a leather jacket. She was with a blonde woman you didn't recognize, but she was dressed in a red gown that made you envious of her body.

There were a few others people you didn't recognize, but you weren't the only one that came alone.

With nothing else to do, you moved over to Matt and Foggy. Foggy touched Matt's arm to let him know someone was coming up behind them. 

"Hey Y/N, welcome to the murder house," he greeted with a grin.

"This is amazing. I still can't believe I'm here. And you boys look dapper," you complimented after you shook both of their hands.

"Foggy keeps telling me my tie doesn't match my suit," Matt said with a smirk, his eyes unmoving behind his red tinted glasses. 

You rolled your eyes at Foggy's snickers.

"It's fine, but it's a little crooked. Here, can I?"

With Matt's nod, you reached up to fix the knot. While you worked on it, the door opened and let in another guest.

Hopefully you didn't tighten the tie too much in your shock. Here you were about to enjoy a wonderful meal for the first time in a long time and in walks the man that broke your heart. 

What was Billy Russo doing here?

His eyes scanned over the room. You weren't sure they rested on you for more than a second before he moved over to where Frank was standing with… that was journalist Karen Page.

Well okay then.

"Friend of yours?"

You lowered your hands and shot Foggy a reproachful look. He grinned and cleared his throat.

"Why don't you get her a drink instead of making fun of her?"

You squeezed Matt's arm in appreciation as Foggy walked away with a quick apologetic look. You tried not to look over to where Billy was, but you couldn't help it.

He looked… amazing. His hair was pushed back, his facial hair professionally trimmed. His tux was obviously tailored to him.

"It's the ex, isn't it? The one you told us about?"

Thankfully Foggy got there just at the right time to hand you a glass of wine. You took a long sip before you answered Matt's question. 

"Yes, that's the one," you offered faux jovially before you took another drink from your glass. "You guys mind if I stick with you tonight?"

"Do we mind a very attractive woman—you can't see her but she's really attractive—hanging out with us in a Gothic murder house? Hm, let me think."

Matt nudged his friend with a laugh. 

"You're welcome to stick with us. Wouldn't have it any other way."

You were grateful that at least someone in this group was someone you were friends with. You weren't sure you could handle it if Billy was here and you were alone. 

Especially when he looked that good.

As you started to wonder who else would be joining the group, a man came into the room wearing a black suit and black gloves. He wasn't dressed like the man who had let you in, so he must have worked for the company that bought the Manor. 

"Welcome, welcome to Wellman's Manor. If you all will follow me, we will have a quick tour before dinner."

A quick tour? You were excited thinking that meant you would see the whole Manor but you soon learned it just meant the first floor. And not even all of it, if you were remembering the layout correctly.

The group was led through the library and an office, plus a room that housed paintings and plants. The kitchen was visible from the hallway, but he didn't go that direction. 

The man, who still hadn't introduced himself, detailed the restoration process of the house. He ignored any questions about the house or who he was. His focus was solely on what he was saying. 

It almost sounded scripted. 

You led Matt around with your arm linked through his. You would whisper to him to describe what was being discussed and sometimes made off the cuff comments about your tour guide. More than one of them made him laugh. 

Near the back of the group was Billy, Frank, and Karen. You'd made eye contact with him once and had immediately turned away, whispering to Matt about something or other to distract yourself. 

You almost wished this night would go faster.

"Here we have the dining room. Please find the seat with your name."

It seemed that people who had come here together were separated. Foggy was next to a blond man whose fingers kept twitching and a black man with a frown. Matt was on an end with Jessica Jones beside him. She at least seemed to know Matt so you weren't worried about him being by myself.

Not that you were very worried about him anyways. 

Then you walked around until you found your name tag. As you pulled out your chair, you froze when you saw who was sitting down beside you. 

Billy. Shit. Could this night get any worse?

On your other side was the blond man with twitchy fingers. At least you were near Foggy.

On Billy's other side was the blonde who had come with Jessica. You realized it was Trish Walker, the radio personality. She was even more beautiful than her billboards. And the two of them side by side looked like a couple from a magazine. It was a little sickening honestly.

The man rang a bell at the front of the room and the doors that must have led to the kitchen opened up. One by one servers came into the room. They placed silver trays in front of each of you, uncovering them to show a side salad and soup. 

“Enjoy,” he said before he made his way out of the door you all had come in through.

It was quiet for a while before people finally started to eat. Then there was a slow rise in the noise level as people started talking to each other. 

Your eyes cut over to Billy, wondering if he was already talking to the beautiful and successful Trish Walker. Instead he was looking at you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said conversationally as he picked up his fork to start in on his salad.

“I could say the same,” you said as you looked back down to your own food. “I didn’t even know you knew anything about this house.”

You didn’t remind him that you talked about it all the time when the two of you’d been together. Instead you simply left it at that. Whatever Billy might have said in response was ignored in favor of the man at your other side who decided you were a better conversationalist than Foggy.

The man on your left was named Benjamin Poindexter—”Call me Dex,”—a former Army vet who had recently stepped down from the FBI. When you told him about your job, you kept it simple because you knew he’d know what it entailed.

“I work for the CSU in New York City.”

“No shit, really? We probably crossed paths at some point. Although,” he added with a grin in your direction, “I think I’d remember you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you looked away for a moment. He was attractive, funny, and interested in you. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad evening after all.

The rest of the courses were brought in one by one. Dessert was an array of different types of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. It was a meal fit for royalty. Or at the very least for famous people. Your hours usually meant you didn't have time to cook for yourself so it was nice to get something not out of a paper bag or a ziploc.

You continued talking to Dex for most of the meal. Both of you had similar stories and a similar sense of humor so it was an easy conversation. Not as easy was catching glimpses of Billy deep in conversation with Trish Walker. 

It shouldn't matter who he talked to. It had already been six months since the last time you'd seen him; you highly doubted he'd been a monk in that time frame. 

No, he was more than welcome to chat up the beautiful radio star. He could go home with her for all you cared.

Maybe you'd give Dex your number. Keeping in touch wouldn't be a bad idea.

Conversations around the table varied from different subjects. The most common was the news that a prisoner transfer bus with almost two dozen of the most violent offenders in the state had gone missing. 

No one believed it was an accident. You and Dex had some theories, but nothing would be able to be proven until the investigation continued. 

Once the plates had been cleared, one of the servers gestured to the large doors you all had entered through. Realizing this meant it was time to get up, you started to rise when your chair was pulled out for you. 

"Thank you," you told Dex, ignoring Billy's look as you stood up and turned towards your dinner companion. "Shall we?"

The whole group followed the server into what could only be referred to as a screening room. There was a large projector like screen on the wall as well as cabinets and shelves of movies and television shows.

You could live happily in that room.

Everyone either took seats around the room or stayed standing. You gravitated to Matt and Foggy, Dex not far behind. 

"Think this has something to do with the mystery guest and the announcement?"

You shrugged in response to Foggy's question. His guess was as good as yours. 

The lights went down in the room, causing all of you to look around for the source. But before anyone could pinpoint it, the projector screen came to life.

The man who had given a quick tour of the first floor was seen on the screen. He was dressed the same, but there was something in his eyes as he looked into the camera. It was like he could see you all. 

"I hope you enjoyed your meal. It was a perfect recreation of the last meal that was eaten in this house before the tragedy of that night, one hundred and fifty years ago." The man dusted off his coat and looked at the camera again. "You were all asked here for a reason. You showed an interest in this house or the family who owned it. Some of the interest was professional, some personal, but it all meant the same thing. That the tragedy that fell upon this house all that time ago was a mockery. A tourist trap."

And unease settled among you and the other guests. This man seemed a little unhinged.

"It has been one hundred and fifty years to the day since the tragedy and I have taken it upon myself to get the revenge that we were sorely refused. Tonight, all of you are in danger."

That got everyone's attention. The raised voices were quieted by the man's next words. 

"If you survive the night, you will be released, but survival is not guaranteed. The servers in the kitchen are prisoners from some of the worst prisons in the state. You might have heard about an ill-fated transfer."

A hush fell over the room. All of you had just been talking about that. If it was true, there were some very horrible men in the house.

"Well then let's just leave," someone said, but the man on the screen turned towards the voice. 

As if he could hear and see you all. 

"The doors are high tech, locked. Not even the most powerful of you will be able to bust through them. And the windows are made of an unbreakable glass."

That meant you were all locked in the house? With murderers? Your mind started to work overdrive as someone else posed a question. 

"So what's stopping us from calling for help? Or from just barricading ourselves into this room until you release us?"

The man smiled, but there was something detached about the movement. Like he was anything but pleased.

"None of your phones will have service. As for why you wouldn't want to just stick together, well, obviously one of you is a murderer as well."

All of you looked around at the other guests, trying to gauge reactions to that. You had no idea who might be the murderer. Although you noticed most people looking at Frank Castle. 

"No, not Mr Castle, that's too obvious."

It was Karen Page who spoke up next.

"So there's a murderer in here. If they try anything, there's more of us. They wouldn't stand a chance."

She had a point. If you all could get to one room that was easily defended from the prisoners, then you could wait it out. He said that you'd all be released if you survived the night. That meant just a few hours until–

"Oh, one more thing. Hidden around the house, very well hidden, is a vial. One for each of you. In this vial is an antidote to the poison that was in your food. And depending on the person and how much you have eaten, you might not make it until sunrise."

The room exploded, everyone yelling over each other as they demanded an explanation from the man on the screen. Now his grin stretched over his lips as he stared down at the room, please by the reaction he was receiving. 

"Survive until sunrise and you will be released and given the antidote if you haven't already found one. Otherwise you can join the Wellman family and their guests in the afterlife."

The screen went dark, pitching the room into sudden blackness. Then the lights came on. 

Frank and Billy moved first, barricading the door that the group had walked through to begin with. The rest of the group realized what they were doing and followed suit, barricading the other two doors.

It left the group of you trapped and alone. And up against the clock. 

"What's the plan here? Stay locked up until we die from being poisoned? Hope that he keeps his word and let's us out in the morning?"

"We don't even know if we were really poisoned," Trish pointed out as she smoothed down her dress.

Matt turned to face you, moving his hand so that you stepped closer. He leaned in close and took a deep breath.

"There's something there," he said as he pulled away, turning to face the room, "I can smell the difference. At the very least, Y/N is poisoned."

The people in the room that were in the know of how Matt could tell all swore under their breaths. Slowly people approached Matt to be checked. And the people who were not in the know were told that he had a heightened sense of smell because he was blind.

Technically it wasn't a lie.

All of you were poisoned, just as he had said. And poisons reacted differently with some people. Not everyone would be able to hold off until the morning, just like the man had said.

"What if we throw it up?" That came from Dex who looked around the room before he met your eyes. "We could get most of it out of our system, right?"

"The poison coming back up after being exposed to our stomach acid could cause more harm than good, especially without knowing what it is."

Shit. The room was in an uproar again. It was a verbal sparring match between going to try to find a way out, trying to find the antidotes, and staying in the room. 

"Me, Bill, and Cage can go and try to find some of the vials. Rest of you stayed here and if someone tries to come in–"

Foggy was mumbling something about splitting up in horror movies, but it didn't last long. There was a loud crack that came from a door in the back of the room. Everyone turned in time for a second crack to resound from the back. 

Someone was using an ax to break the lock on the door. There was a table in front of it, but it looked flimsy. Apparently they weren't sure if they believed that they were in danger when they blocked that table. 

"Guess now we know it was true," Jessica grumbled before she grabbed a wooden chair. She shattered the thing over her knee and started distributing the legs and sides to be used as clubs. 

Cage, as in Luke Cage, did the same with another chair before he handed out some makeshift clubs. Frank grabbed two heavy golden candlestick holders, one for Karen and one for you.

"What good is this stuff against an ax?"

Frank didn't have time to answer. The back door came flying open and a man stalked through the length of the room. It was the one who had driven you to the house. He swung his ax at Dex who had surged forward, knocking the man off balance. Next was Frank and he caught the edge of the ax against his temple.

The man with the ax turned and caught a glimpse of you. He smiled and pointed the ax at you before he started your way. Matt was coming up behind you, Luke and someone else telling you to get back. 

You reacted on instinct. With as much strength as you could muster, you threw the candlestick holder at him. It bounced off his shoulder, slowing him down for a second as he winced. He was within feet of you as you tried to stumble backwards.

A dull thud echoed in the room before his body crumbled. Behind him was Billy, the leg of a chair held aloft like a baseball bat. There was even a little blood on the edge.

"Grab the ax," he told Frank in a low voice, "and find something for us to tie him up with. Unless you think we should just kill him."

Billy stepped almost as if he was going to help you up, but Foggy got there first.

"Jesus he was heading straight for you," Foggy breathed as he pulled you back some more.

"He was the guy that picked me up. That means he…" You hesitated, your eyes meeting Billy's. "He knows where I live."

If you all survived this and they weren't caught, he could come after you again. Billy merely looked at Frank who had just picked up the ax. Whatever silent communication passed between them, Frank shrugged his shoulder before he swung the ax down onto the man's neck. 

"Jesus Christ," Trish yelled from nearby, "want to warn us before you do that shit?"

A man that you didn't recognize and you hadn't heard speak finally stepped up, his hand on the woman beside him. They both look scared shitless.

"We aren't staying here," the man explained as he dragged his wife towards the door that led out into a hallway. "This is sick. And it's not going to happen, it's not... "

The two of them disappeared out of the room despite almost all of you yelling for them to come back.

"They don't have any goddamn weapons and this guy having an ax means that the prisoners are armed. Talk about a fair fight," Dex said as he hoisted his chair leg onto his shoulder.

"Yeah, but not a lot of good being armed did you," Billy shot back as he made a show of wiping the blood off his chair leg on the back of the dead man's jacket. "I say we relocate, make sure the room isn't able to be breached, and then we follow Frank's plan. Get a few vials and wait it out."

There was a pretty even divide over who thought that was a good plan and who thought it was a bad one. You just wanted to get away from the dead body. It was part of your job, but in those cases, it wasn't a body you had watched be killed. Or someone who had almost killed you. 

"Guys," Matt said in a careful voice, his face turning towards a wall, "there's gas being fed into this room. I can smell it. We need to get out of here."

That was a good enough reason for the rest of you. The group moved forward, with Frank and Billy in front and Dex and Luke at the back. Jessica was in the middle, her body poised for a fight. And Matt looked like he wished he was wearing his other suit. 

The group of you moved from the screening room and down the hall. The kitchen was locked up. Frank tried to use the ax but it didn't even dent the door. 

"Let's get settled somewhere first," Billy urged before the group started the move again. 

The next room was a small library. The bigger one was upstairs, you knew that. The first door was blocked off with a bookshelf, hoping it was heavy enough to keep the door shut. Then once the room was cleared, they shut the door you all had just walked through.

"We shouldn't split up," Karen said as she went around checking behind books, either for a weapon or maybe even a vial of the antidote. "We're more vulnerable in groups."

"Yeah but we can't move a group of ten of us around the house looking for vials, we'll be like fish in a barrel."

You moved over to one of the shelves, ignoring the fight behind you. Once again the room was divided on what to do next. Instead of focusing on that, you focused on what else it meant. 

Twelve people originally. Twelve people came to this house to enjoy themselves and have a dinner but then this? Now you were all in a fight for survival. The man and woman who left probably didn’t stand a chance against the prisoners. 

This house was three stories tall with an unknown number of rooms. The man that built it had built in secret passages and trap doors as well as false rooms. He wanted it to be a maze.

A hand touched your shoulder and you jerked, unaware that anyone had been behind you. Matt removed his hand and gave you a small smile. 

"I think the group is splitting up."

You looked around and sure enough, Jessica, Trish, and Luke were already gone. Dex too. Matt motioned to him and Foggy.

"We're gonna stick together. I'll hear if someone's coming."

You looked over to Billy, Frank, and Karen and bit your lip. 

"The six of us should stick together," you said as you stepped away from the bookshelf. "Foggy and I can't do much defending and Matt is just one person. There's still what, twenty-three more prisoners?"

Karen and Frank were already nodding, not needing you to try to prove that it was a good idea. Billy gave you a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Plus she knows the layout the best. Could come in handy," Billy explained with a quick nod. "We're gonna try to find a few vials, maybe some weapons. Then we can come back down here until sunrise."

It was the best plan. You wished you had paid attention to figure out why the others left.

You were a little disappointed that Dex was gone. 

You stuck close to Foggy and Matt, with Billy behind you. Karen and Frank were in front of you.

"Let's head up one floor," Frank said, eye contact with Billy to get the point across, "do some checks up there. Heads on a swivel right now."

Frank kept the ax close. Karen and Foggy had chair legs. Billy had a chair leg and a fireplace poker. When he noticed your attention, he handed the fireplace poker to you. 

"Try not to stab anyone unless it's a prisoner," he said before he gave you a push to follow the others. 

"I think we can agree to a truce for the night," you said as you followed the others down a hallway.

"Alright tour guide, where to first?"

You looked around to orient yourself, ignoring Frank's quip. The two of you hadn't interacted much when you and Billy were dating. That probably had something to do with the fact that you weren't really dating, you were just fucking with meals in between.

God, you'd been falling in love with him and he didn't even consider the two of you a serious relationship. And you found that out when he was out with someone else.

"The stairs on this side of the house lead first to a library and an office. There's some smaller closets I think. There also should be a storage room there too."

"Good enough for me," Frank said before he turned towards the stairs. 

All of you made your way up the curved staircase. Just as your feet cleared the last stair with Matt at your side, you heard a ferocious yell in the distance followed by a loud thud. Then more thudding.

"Tell me that was Luke Cage making mincemeat out of someone," Foggy begged. Karen grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall.

Not even halfway down the hall, Matt grabbed your arm and stilled. You turned to him, worried about what was wrong. His head was cocked, obviously listening to something else. 

"Someone's in that room. Rapid heart rate, smells like sweat."

Billy reached for the handle, counting to three under his breath before he yanked the door open. Him and Matt sprang into action as another prisoner launched himself at the three of you from inside the closet.

While Matt did his usual martial arts styles, Billy seemed to just want to end the man. You knew Daredevil didn't kill, but Billy didn't have that hang up. And the two of them together worked pretty well.

"Y/N, watch out!"

You spun around just in time to see another prisoner darting your way. He came out of a room between where the others were and where you were, so they weren't close enough to stop him. 

The fireplace poker in your hand felt heavy in your hand as you swung it out, but the man blocked it with something metal by the sound of the ringing in your ears. 

Then your ass was on the ground, the man looming over you. The crowbar in the man's hands was pressed against your throat as he climbed on top of you. 

You couldn't find the poker but, as your vision started to go blurry, you fell back on old self defense methods. Your thumbs went to his eye sockets, pressing as hard as you could. You also dug your nails into the side of his face to gain more leverage.

He let out a scream of pain, leaning up just enough for you to get a breath. You aimed a punch for his throat and when that didn't deter him, you aimed a punch for his kidneys. Your dress had your legs pinned but you put your feet flat and rolled, tipping the two of you to the side.

"Don't move," Frank called as he swung out, his ax catching the man on the back. 

As he screamed at the ax cutting into his back, you crawled away from him. Frank continued to hack away and you rolled out of the strike zone.

"C'mere," a familiar voice said as you were lifted back onto your feet. "Shit, you okay?"

You nodded even as Billy tilted your face up to check your throat. It hurt to breathe a bit, but at least you could breathe.

Matt came up between the two of you, a smudge on his face. Blood. You winced as you looked between him and Billy. 

"Guess you finished your guy off too?"

Billy released you and bent down to pick up something. It was the crowbar the man had used. He also picked up the fireplace poker you had dropped.

"If they are moving, don't swing, stab. Momentum will get that end through them," he said as he gestured to the end of the poker. 

"Thanks for that," you said as you grabbed the poker from him. 

You leaned against the wall and kicked off your heels. Then you frowned at your dress. 

"You wouldn't happen to have your knife on you, would you?"

Billy raised his eyebrow before he pulled out a small knife. It wasn't his usual knife, but he usually had something on him. He held it out to you hilt first and you accepted it.

You cut through the lace first, then the satin underneath. You only cut off a few inches but it was enough to move around without tripping. Between that and your shoes off, you felt a little better. 

Karen grabbed the knife from you and did the same thing. Afterwards she handed the knife back to Billy. 

"Let's try this again," Frank said before the six of you started down the hall once more.

Foggy came to your side, letting Matt listen for more hidden prisoners. He looked around at the other four people and then leaned towards you. 

"Who do you think the murderer is?"

You snorted as you gestured for Frank that the room nearby was the library by holding your hands like a book. 

"I thought it was you," you joked as you knocked your shoulder into Foggy's. "But really I don't know. If he meant that there was someone capable of murder, there's too many to count. If he meant there was someone who had murdered and gotten away with it, there's still probably too many to count."

Foggy nodded as he hefted the chair leg he had been given. 

"No offense but my money is on your boy the FBI agent," he said with a tense smile as you both approached the library door. "Something about him just made me uncomfortable."

He was very intense but you didn't get a dangerous vibe from him. Then again you were focused so much on ignoring Billy that maybe you missed those signs. 

Speaking of Billy. He came up behind the two of you and shut the library door. There was another door on the far side that opened the room up to the other side of the house, but Frank shut that door. 

Once both doors were blocked, you all looked around and the library. There was a maze of stacks blocking view of the back of the library. 

"The vials could be hidden anywhere," Karen said as she lifted up a few knickknacks on a table. 

"The prisoners too," Frank reminded before he looked at Matt. "What about it Red, hear anything?"

Matt strained his hearing before he shook his head.

"Six heart beats, just us."

You let out a small, petty laugh as you looked at Billy. 

"Well look at that, guess you do have a heart," you quipped before you stormed off down through the stacks.

You weren't interested in his response. 

There were more and more bookshelves the further into the room you went. The books were all different genres and languages, some newer and some obviously from when the house was first inhabited. There didn't seem to be any kind of shelving process as far as you could see.

You ran your fingers along the spine of the books of one shelf. It was eye level, the books older than the rest. Once again it wasn't in any sort of order. 

Who would put a book that starts with V next to I?

You hesitated as your eyes moved to the next few books. A. L. S.

Vials. The order of the books spelled out vials!

You stepped back and started at the front of the shelf.

T. H. E. V. I. A. L. S. A. R. E. H. I. D. D. E. N. H. E. R. E.

Was it too easy? You looked around but to here wasn't anywhere to hide them. Then one by one you pulled the books down to check behind them. The back of the shelf was solid.

Was it a trick? Except…

The book that started with the H in here was heavy. Heavier than it looked. You opened the book and your eyes widened. A small vial was secreted in between the pages.

Carefully you plucked out the vial. Then you stepped over the books and headed to where you could hear voices.

"Just keep it Karen," Frank snapped as he pushed something small into her hand. Neither of them could see you yet. "I'm not fighting with you on this. I'm bigger so the poison will take longer."

There must have been a second vial in the room. You looked down at yours and then stepped into the light.

"Where did you find yours?"

They seemed surprised to see you, but not guilty. They weren't hiding that they'd found one. Karen pointed to a book that was appropriately named "Cures for Poisons".

"A little on the nose," Karen remarked as she tucked the vial into her cleavage. "And you?"

You ran your fingers over the spines of the books near you. 

"The first letter in the title of the books spelled out a clue. So they aren't just hidden, it's a scavenger hunt?"

Matt and Foggy were next to find you three. They hadn't found anything but Matt did say he could hear someone on the other side of the wall. 

"They weren't talking and didn't seem to be rushing. Couldn't get to them without going through the doors."

"We need to tear this room apart. We already found two vials, who knows how many are here?"

Seconds after he said that there was the sound of running out in the hall the six of you had just come through. The footsteps grew quieter and then you heard a louder set follow just a moment later.

"Shit," you breathed as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Then, "Where's Billy?"

"I'm right here," he said from the dark corner, a book in his hand, "just waiting for the next order."

All of you, minus Billy who seemed to just be along for the ride, decided to look through as many books as possible. You warned them to look at the titles and arrangement of the books. Clues could be anywhere. 

Everyone scattered to different corners of the room except for you and Billy. You looked at the book in his hand. There wasn't a vial in it, but it looked like sketches.

"What is that?" He wouldn't have picked it up for no reason.

Billy turned the inside towards you. 

"Richard Wellman, the architect of the house," he explained as he turned the book back towards him. "This is his journal. It talks about trap doors and hidden rooms all over the house."

You remembered that from your own research. 

"They said he was insane," you explained as you turned away from Billy to look at the shelves. "The love of his life left him the day of their wedding and he never really recovered. He built this house as a distraction. People said it resembled the inside of his head."

Billy made a noise low in his throat at that.

"You uh, you always loved this place. Could recite the names of the people who died as if they were your friends." He shut the book and let it rest at his side. "It was part of the reason I entered into that raffle."

You were stunned silent. Then, with curiosity brimming, you began to question him on that. Only you didn't get the chance.

The floor rumbled as something gave way not far from where you were. There was a loud scream and a crash.

Billy went first, keeping you at his side as the two of you made your way around the shelves. In the middle of the floor was a circular hole. It was obviously made that way. If you looked hard enough, you could briefly make out the mechanisms that made up the trap door.

And then there was something else. In the middle of the floor down on the bottom level was Foggy. He wasn't moving. 

"No," you cried as you moved forward, but Billy held you back.

"He hit a trap," Matt explained as he paced around the edge of the circle, side stepping Karen and Frank who arrived moments later. "Fell right through. I should have sensed it."

But how could he have? The trap looked to be a book that Foggy had pulled out that opened the trap door. There was no telling what could have triggered it until it happened. 

"Is he–"

"No," Matt cut off Karen, shaking his head, "I can hear his heart. I think he hit his head. I can smell blood."

With Billy's help holding you steady, you peered through the trap door as best you could. 

"It's one of the lower rooms. He can't stay down there by himself, one of the prisoners might–"

"I'll jump down," Matt said as he tugged off his glasses and then his jacket. "None of the prisoners will get past me."

Whether or not he'd give up his vow not to kill, you weren’t sure. As Matt got ready to drop down, Billy held out his crowbar.

"Might need something other than your right hook to take them on. Get somewhere safe and hole up. We'll be down there in no time."

You went over to Matt and pulled the vial out of your dress. You pressed it into his hand and kissed his cheek. 

"Good luck. Be careful."

He gave you a nod before he dropped down through the trap door. He landed a little wobbly but then he was at Foggy's side. Once you heard Foggy's confused groan, you knew he was alright.

"Let's head to the office now," Frank said as he motioned away from the trap door. "Better to keep moving. Quicker we find these vials, quicker we can get back down there."

All of you agreed that that was the best plan and started towards the front of the library once more. You felt a hand press to the small of your back to help you ease around the large trap door in the middle of the floor. The touch made your heart speed up and you were glad that Matt wasn’t there to hear it.

You didn’t need anyone else knowing just how far gone you still were over Billy Russo. It wasn’t fair.

The four of you made it to the front of the library and looked between the doors. Frank then turned to you to get your opinion.

“That way,” you said with a gesture to the door you all had entered through, “will lead to the office, a storage room, maybe a bedroom, and then some stairs. This way leads to a few bedrooms and the other stairs.”

It was a tough decision because none of you really knew what was around the corner. There were murderous prisoners, albeit a few less than before, and trap doors. Were there more traps waiting for you all?

“I say we check the office. We found two vials in the library, so maybe there’s more clues in there,” Karen said as she looked around for confirmation.

Unable to think of a better idea, all of you decided to go back the way you had come. Frank and Billy moved the things that were blocking the door. Frank went out first, followed by you and Karen. Billy brought up the rear once more.

You all made it to the office without incident, but it wasn’t that far away. The inside looked as if someone had come through and flicked through a few things before they ran out in a hurry. Maybe whoever that was that you had heard being chased had been interrupted while looking for something.

Just like in the library, the door was blocked once the four of you were in there. The office was smaller so you thankfully didn’t need Matt’s capabilities to tell you if anyone was in there. But once the room was sealed off, you all started to look in different corners of the room for another vial.

There was a smear of blood on the wall near where you were looking through some books. The blood looked fresh.

Was it someone you knew?

“Don’t think about it,” Billy said as he crossed over to look through a desk nearby.

“Think about what?” At his look, you let out a huff and turned away from him. “Oh, you’re a mind reader now?”

“No, but I know you well enough to know what’s on your mind.”

There was a pain in your chest that you associated with Billy. If he knew what was on your mind, if he really knew you, he never would have broken your heart. He would have known that you were falling for him and he wouldn’t have gone out with other women. He wouldn’t have told you that you weren’t right for him. He wouldn’t have–

You stumbled a bit, your hand coming out to prop yourself up against the wall. The pain in your chest expanded a bit and you frowned. It felt almost like indigestion, not heartbreak. Was dinner causing a problem?

That reminded you of the secret ingredient. The poison might be getting to you. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and caught Billy’s eye. He looked concerned as he took a step towards you, but you waved him off. You didn’t want to draw Frank or Karen’s attention right then. They didn’t need to worry about you being poisoned as the four of you fought for your lives.

You couldn’t let them think you were a liability.

“How long until sunrise? I just wanna know how long we have to get through this.”

Billy shrugged his shoulder as he went back to the desk.

“Seven twenty, give or take? It’s almost midnight now.”

Midnight? Where had the night gone? You had arrived at the manor at six. How was it possible that six hours had already passed? Although you were in the library for a while. And it had taken a long time for people to decide what to do once it was revealed that your sadistic host hadn’t been joking about any of it.

After about twenty minutes of looking, you all realized there weren’t any vials in the office. If there had been any to start with, they were gone now.

“Where to now?”

Once more the door was unblocked. Billy went first and you kept near to him, unable to stay away. You felt safe with him. It was something residual from your relationship, but how many times had he protected you tonight already? For whatever reason.

“Here,” you said as you pointed at a door. 

Billy opened it slowly and checked around. It was supposed to be a storage room but it was just a wide hallway that connected this side of the house to the other. The two of you walked through the doorway and started across the hallway, you only a few steps behind Billy.

In the distance you heard a clock begin to chime. On the third chime, you heard a scream from the hallway behind you. You and Billy turned to see Karen pulling a knife from her side, the sickening thud of Frank using his ax on the prisoner who had attacked them. 

“Karen!” You rushed forward back down the hallway to the door where she had stumbled out of sight. “Karen?”

You heard her say that she was okay on the eleventh chime. Then, before you got any further, the twelfth chime sounded. The moment it did, a large metal door slid down from the top of the door frame. It cut you off from Karen and Frank.

“No!” You slammed your fists against the metal, but it didn’t even rattle.

A loud sound echoed from the door, most likely Frank hitting the door with the ax. You thought you could hear his voice, a low rumble through the metal, but you couldn’t make out the words.

“It’s hopeless,” Billy said as he put his hand on your shoulder, “you’re not making it through that. Come on, maybe we can get back through one of the other rooms.”

“But Karen–” you began but Billy grabbed your wrists and turned you to face him.

“I know she was hurt, but she’s with Frankie. He’s not gonna let anything happen to her. And with those two together, I’m more worried about the prisoners. Now c’mon, let’s keep moving.”

At least you weren’t alone. You didn’t think you could do this alone.

You and Billy stayed close to each other as you came out into the other hallway. It was empty and neither of you could hear anything.

“We could go to the library, try to cross there,” Billy said as he looked down the way to the library.

“You blocked the door for this side,” you reminded him as you gestured with your fireplace poker. “And I’m confident that you and I wouldn’t be able to open the door alone.”

“Shit,” he breathed. Then he looked at you with a wry smile. “So what’s on this side again?”

The two of you started down the rest of the hallway towards what you were pretty sure was a bedroom. 

Of course the thought of being alone in a bedroom with Billy was just about as terrifying as being stuck in a house with two dozen murderous escaped prisoners. You just wouldn’t say that to him.

But that did make you think of something else.

“You said that you entered the raffle because of me. What did you mean?”

Billy froze for a second before he opened the door. The room was empty so the two of you went in. He shut the door and leaned against it.

“You should have told me.”

That came out of nowhere. You turned to face Billy, both of your hands tight on the length of the poker you still held.

“Told you what? What are you talking about?”

He shook his head and looked away from you. When he looked back at you, you found yourself nearly sucked in by those dark eyes.

“I heard you that night. You were on the phone with your mom and you told her you were falling in love with me. But you should have told me.”

The poker fell to the floor and you jumped at the sound it made when it connected. You bent down to pick it up, using the moment to take a deep breath.

“Wait, so you heard me and you think I should have told you that I was falling for you, but… you cheated on me Billy.”

It was all too much. You were trapped in a murder house with your ex and he was talking about you falling for him. If you knew your night was going to be even half as bad as this, you would have torn that invitation to pieces.

“I didn’t… you said when we started to see each other that you didn’t know if you could be with a guy long term that was in such a dangerous line of work. I thought that meant we were going to be casual.”

Casual. You still had a box of the belongings he had left at your place. And he possibly had your belongings still. Including your favorite bra which you had left at his place.

“So we’re together, having sex and going on dates for almost a year, and you never thought to ask me what we were instead of just assuming and… and breaking my heart? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

Billy laughed and ran his free hand over his face. His knuckles were bruised and the cuff of his jacket was stained with blood.

“You didn’t want long term with me because of Anvil and I wasn’t going to just leave the company I created. I figured… figured you’d leave anyways. You falling for me wasn’t going to work if you resented what I did for a living.” Billy leaned back against the door, shaking his head. “I’ve never had this before Y/N. I’ve never wanted it before. But then all of a sudden I have you and then when I start to fall, I figured it was time for me to leave before I do something I regret.”

You let out a laugh. Your legs felt weak so you sank down on the bed. Was the weakness from the poison or just from Billy’s declaration? That he was falling for you at the same time that you were falling for him. And now here it was, six months later and you could barely be in his presence without remembering how it felt to be in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, but we both fucked up,” he said as he pushed away from the door, crossing over to sit on the bed beside you. “You should have told me how you felt and I shouldn’t have assumed anything. But it’s a little late to go back in time and do it over.”

That was the truth. 

“And depending on how tonight goes, we might not get that chance anyways.”

You said it with a laugh, feeling a lead weight settle in your stomach as you finally admitted that you might not make it out of this house. Just as you started to shake your head, Billy grabbed your chin and made you face him.

“Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk like you’re not gonna get out of this house. We’re both getting out of here. And once we do, I’m going to take you to breakfast and then I’m going to take you to my place. After we sleep for forty eight hours, we’re gonna try again.”

It was the words that you had longed to hear. Well, not all of the words, but trying again? In the dark of night, you had dreamed about those words. You had wondered what it’d be like to hear them from Billy. An apology and the chance to try again? 

All you had to do was survive.

You opened your mouth to say something but instead your teeth began to chatter. Billy raised one hand to press the back against your forehead and then cursed.

“You’re burning up,” he said as he tilted your head up to check your pupils.

“Which is odd because I’m so cold,” you said as you rubbed uselessly at your arms.

Billy pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around you. Then he swore and stood up, pacing a short distance in front of you.

“You gave the vial to Murdock and the poison is affecting you already. Fuck.”

If you were already having this many symptoms, you weren’t sure that you could make it to sunrise. Instead of saying that to Billy, because you were sure he already knew, you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Sit with me for a little bit? Then we can search the room for a vial.”

You weren’t giving up hope, you refused to do that. Billy nodded before he joined you back on the bed, his shoulder pressed against yours. He gently pulled you into his chest and you closed your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder.

You’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be held by him.

After a little while of being held, you finally pulled away from Billy. The two of you looked around the room, but there weren’t many places things could be hidden. Once you were in agreement that there was nothing else in the room, Billy went back to the door. He gestured for you to wait as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Almost immediately he swung his crowbar, the thing crashing into the top part of a prisoner who launched himself at Billy. The other man had a knife, a long blade that shone under the hallway lights. Billy surged forward with the crowbar again. He did something complicated when the man swung the knife out, his hand grabbing the wrist of the prisoner and twirling the two of them around. It gave him leverage and movement to plunge the knife into the man’s throat.

You looked away from the blood, but that didn’t stop you from hearing the man gurgle, choking on blood. 

“You’re a crime scene tech,” Billy said as he stepped into your view, the bowie knife tucked under his belt, “you telling me you haven’t seen worse than that?”

You let out a helpless laugh as you twisted the fireplace poker in your hands.

“The crime is finished when I’m on scene,” you reminded him as you stepped around the feet of the man, careful not to look at the carnage, “not being committed.”

Billy kept you at his side, keeping his attention focused on the surroundings. The two of you cleared the next few rooms in much the same way but nothing was found. 

As you walked down the hall, you stepped on something and heard a faint click. You barely had a moment to register the sound before you were being tackled to the floor. On your back with Billy pressed on top of you, you heard a rush of air above you. Your eyes peered over his shoulder to see that some sort of pick ax had swung down. 

If Billy hadn’t tackled you, the ax would have gone into your chest.

“Thank you,” you breathed as you turned to catch Billy’s eyes. 

He was staring down at you with a strange look in his eyes. You opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t have a chance. He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, his mouth moving along yours desperately. Your hand went to his neck to pull him in closer, desperate and ignoring the need to breathe. The way his tongue moved over yours and the feel of his hands on your body were better than you remembered.

Except you were on the floor in a house where people wanted to kill you. You pulled away with a laugh, your hand dropping to cover your eyes. 

“What’s funny about this?”

You moved your hand to meet Billy’s eyes, seeing him grin down at you.

“Are you kidding? We’re being hunted by murderous escaped prisoners, we’re both poisoned, and we’re lying on the ground making out like teenagers. You realize if this was a horror movie, we’d both die right now?”

Billy laughed and leaned in to give you another quick kiss before he got off of you. He carefully helped you up and then handed you the poker that you had dropped.

The ax hung in the middle of the hallway. Billy grabbed the thing and pulled on the mechanism, shaking his head.

“It’s welded to the mechanism, can’t take it down.”

“Well where to next? Up to the third floor or back down to the first?”

Billy looked back down the long hall the two of you had moved through. Then he looked in the direction of the stairs.

“Let’s head up. What’s up there?”

“Bedrooms on all four sides. In the middle was a large room with paintings and statues. It was the architect’s favorite room.”

He checked the ground to see the trap you had stepped on so that he could identify if there was another one. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure the architect’s favorite room has plenty of traps. We’ll avoid that if we can help it.”

The two of you went down the rest of the hall to the stairs, careful of where you stepped. You noticed more blood on the stairs but Billy once again told you not to think about it.

Up the stairs, the two of you made your way to the first room. It was more grand than the ones on the second floor. Both of you looked over the room just like the others, but there was nothing to be found. And then the next one. And the next one.

“It’ll take hours to search all these rooms,” Billy said as he looked down the hall. There were probably only three rooms left on this hall, but there were still three other halls of rooms. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Do you have plans or something? I’m pretty sure all we have is time,” you joked as you leaned against the wall, your hand going to your chest where you could feel your heart racing.

“You don’t have that kind of time,” Billy said, coming to your side and checking your pulse. “Where’s this room with the paintings? There has to be at least one vial in there.”

It would be a hidden door. You explained to Billy the general way it worked, that you’d press on one side and the other would open. Then both of you moved along the innermost wall to try to find the one that would be a hidden door.

There was a line on one of the walls that didn’t look natural. You followed it up and then stepped so that you were beside it. One hand on the wall, you used a little pressure. There was a click and then the wall seemed to swing open soundlessly.

Billy was at your side in an instant, knife raised as he entered the room first. Satisfied that at least there wasn’t someone lying in wait, you followed him.

The wall rushed closed behind the two of you, but it didn’t matter. You were frozen as you looked at the room. There were hundreds of portraits and statues in the room. 

But that meant hundreds of chances to find a vial, so you weren’t discouraged.

“How long until sunrise?”

Billy looked at his watch and frowned.

“It’s almost three so we still have at least four more hours.”

Four hours. And with your symptoms progressing, you probably had half that.

“Let’s get started.”

The two of you stayed close to one another as you made your way through the first portraits. Some of them were just paintings, nothing special about them. A few swung around to reveal a different painting on the backside. One or two pulled out to reveal a hidden cabinet, but there wasn’t anything in any of the cabinets that you checked.

Billy stayed close to you for protection, but you thought it might also be for comfort. Now that the two of you were on the same page, you didn’t want to be separated from him either. 

You’d spent six months hating him but you’d been wrong. While you wouldn’t be able to start where you had left off, you thought that starting over was a good possibility. And that kiss in the hallway told you what you already knew—you were still very attracted to Billy. And at least he seemed to still be attracted to you.

He had been falling for you. The thought made you giddy. He had been falling for you and while yes, what came next was stupid and could have been avoided if either of you had been able to talk about your feelings, but that wasn’t something you could change.

What’s done is done. But now you change what happens next.

Billy was inspecting a statue, his back to you as he looked it over. You watched his hands move to the base where he felt around for something.

“I think this might have a catch,” he said over his shoulder.

You opened your mouth to reply, but all you could do is gasp as a hand clapped around your mouth as you were yanked backwards. The portrait shut in front of you, separating you from the portrait room. Separating you from Billy.

You swung out wildly, the fireplace poker nearly catching the person who held you.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” a somewhat familiar voice said through a grimace, “it’s Dex.”

Dex? You settled down until he let you go. Once he did, you yanked yourself away from him and took a few steps back towards the hidden door you had just been pulled through. You could hear Billy banging on the portrait, trying to find a way in.

“What are you doing? Why–why did you take me?”

Dex scoffed as he gestured at you.

“You’re sick, the poison is getting to you. I noticed it earlier and knew I needed to get you alone. Get you away from him.”

Him? Get you away from Billy? You shook your head and turned to the portrait, your hands seeking out the mechanism to open it.

“Let me out of here Dex. Billy is probably terrified for me right now.”

You were sick and abducted; Billy would be beyond terrified and straight into furious. Something told you that he would tear this house down brick by brick to get you back, and his constant yells to bring you back supported that idea.

“He’s dangerous Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Except you did know. You’d known from the start, way before tonight. It had been the reason you’d been so unsure at first. He was a Marine, he ran a private security firm, he was skilled and yes, dangerous. But he wasn’t a danger to you. And while you could worry that something might happen to him one day, tonight proved that no one was safe. 

And he had protected you tonight. 

“I know what he’s capable of Dex, he’s my… boyfriend. We broke up but we’re together again. Now let me… out.”

You had turned around to face him to ask him to let you out, but you noticed that he was holding a vial in the air. Your chest hurt from the adrenaline and you were starting to have trouble breathing. You needed that vial. 

“Can I…?”

You reached out for it, but Dex threw it onto the ground and let it shatter. You jumped back and your back thumped against the portrait. 

“Why did you do that? You said you knew I’m sick. That could have cured me!”

He shook his head as he pulled something out from behind his back. It was a knife. He held it loosely at his side, not pointing it at you.

“You were nice and sweet. I thought you might be someone I could count on, someone I could get to know,” he said as he paced in the small room. He pointed his knife at the portrait he had pulled you from and shook his head harder, his eyes going a little wide. “He is dangerous. You shouldn’t be with him. He’s exactly the type of person that Rawlins meant to bring here. Not you, you shouldn’t be here.”

You had seen a few people have a nervous break, but this didn’t look like one. This was more like an unhinged person not hiding that they were unhinged. This was like seeing a completely different person wearing Dex’s face. It was…

Wait.

“Rawlins? Did you… the man that brought us here?”

Dex’s eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“Yeah, he told us his name before the tour. The guy that arranged this all.”

You thought about it again, playing it over in your head. You knew for a fact that the man hadn’t given his name because you had thought it was strange.

But there was something else that you remembered now. You started to walk in the opposite direction since Dex was coming closer to you.

“The papers said that the prison transfer was supposed to be guarded by the FBI, but that there had been an issue with car that was following the bus.” You swallowed as you held the fireplace poker a little tighter. “And you recently resigned from the FBI.”

Dex rotated the knife in his hand. And a grin started to spread over his lips.

“You’re clever. You could have made it through the night.”

He raised the knife up and started towards you. He only got two steps before the portrait slid open. Dex turned in an instant and threw his knife. You watched as the blade imbedded itself in Billy’s shoulder. Then Dex rushed towards Billy. 

Billy had his own knife held up. As Dex threw himself forward at Billy, the knife was knocked out of Billy’s hand. Not like this, you told yourself as you watched the two men grapple.

And then you moved. You started to swing but you remembered Billy’s words. Instead you thrust it forward. The momentum of your movement plus Billy, who had seen you coming and had pushed Dex backwards, the tip of the poker speared through Dex’s back. He let out a scream and stumbled backwards, but Billy was on him in a fluid move. He pulled the knife from his shoulder and slid it across Dex’s throat, cutting the scream off at the source.

You looked away as the body hit the floor.

“Y/N? Y/N are you okay?” Hands were on your face as you were pulled out of the little hidden room. “Talk to me. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and leaned forward until your forehead could rest against Billy’s shoulder.

“I’m so dizzy and tired,” you admitted as you felt your body sag a bit. “He had a vial but he crushed it when… I guess when I picked you over him.”

Billy pulled away, but not far. He reached into his pocket and lifted something up for you to see. It was two vials of the antidote. 

“Found them in the statue right before you were taken,” he said as he pressed one into your hand. “Come on, drink it. It might take time to kick in and we need to get somewhere safe until sunrise.”

You nodded and twisted off the cap. You held it up to your lips but froze as you thought about it.

“This man is twisted, messed up in the head. What if this isn’t a cure? What if it’s more poison?”

Billy nodded and unscrewed the top of the other vial. He raised it to you and you realized what he meant. Both of you would drink from the vials. Then either you would both be cured or you’d both die.

“This is some Romeo and Juliet shit,” you mumbled with a bit of a smile before both of you drained your vials.

Once that was done, both of you left the room with the portraits. Billy kept his knife and handed you the crowbar since you weren’t getting your poker back.

“Should we just hole up in one of these bedrooms until sunrise? For safety,” you added with a roll of your eyes as Billy grinned at you.

“Let’s get back downstairs. That’s where the others would have gone if they found vials. And we can check on Murdock and Nelson.”

He guided you down the hall and down the stairs. In the hallway on the second floor, you saw someone standing there. Except… they weren’t standing. 

One of the prisoners had been pushed onto the pick ax that you had triggered. Either it had been triggered again or someone had impaled him there. Billy moved so that you were against the wall as the two of you moved past the body. 

Further down the hallway you passed by the library doors. They were opened. Another prisoner was there with blood all over his face. It looked like his head had been crushed.

“Come on, one more floor,” Billy said as he guided you away.

Once on the first floor, Billy and you found more bodies. This time it included the bodies of the man and woman who had left the viewing room when you first found out that this was a trap. They hadn’t made it far it seemed.

It was your turn to guide Billy. He said to go back to the library on the first floor so you took him the quickest route. At one of the doors, you knocked and called out in a soft voice that it was you and Billy. No one answered and you tried the knob, but the door was blocked.

“What now?”

Before either of you had a chance to make a plan, you heard something scrape across the door. Billy moved to stand in front of you just in case, but the door swung open to reveal Frank.

“Jesus,” he said as he tugged you in first, then Billy, “we were starting to worry.”

As Billy and Frank put the bookcase back in front of the door, you looked around the room.

Karen was leaning against Foggy’s shoulder, her hand on her side. Matt was nearby, pacing. Trish, Luke, and Jessica were on couches nearby, all of them looking worse for wear.

Granted you probably didn’t look too good yourself. You were pretty sure you had blood splattered on your face.

“Where’s the blond guy? Anyone see him?”

Billy put his knife on the table before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“He was the murderer. Sounded like the guy that brought us all here must have known him or paid him, I don’t know. But he’s been taken care of,” you added as you leaned your head against Billy’s shoulder.

“We have a few extra vials,” Jessica said as she pointed to them on the table nearby. “Trish took one within the first hour after we left and she’s fine now. Murdock said we’re all cured.”

You sagged even more in Billy’s shoulders. Matt came over and did his thing, smiling when he was sure that both of you were cured as well.

“At least that was true,” you said as you slumped into the couch with Billy on one side and Karen on the other. You checked her side and then grabbed Billy’s hand. “How long until sunrise?”

“Roughly an hour,” Frank said from where he was pacing. “Now we just gotta hope he didn’t lie about letting us out at sunrise.”

You didn’t think he was lying. But that did make you think of something else.

“What’s going to happen to us? We’ll have to tell the cops what happened here. Can we… will we go to jail?”

“For killing escaped prisoners who were trying to kill us while we were locked in a creepy mansion?” Trish scoffed and leaned against Jessica’s shoulder a bit. “I’d like to see them try.”

Billy tugged you against his chest a bit.

“Try to rest. I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered into your ear as you leaned against him.

And you knew he would.

------

There was what sounded a bit like a stampede right around when Billy said sunrise was there. Frank peered out through the door and confirmed what most of you suspected.

“Front door is open. Looks like all of the prisoners just took off.”

You all stepped out of the library and went towards the door. As the group got there, someone came out of the corner room right off the foyer.

“So you are the lucky survivors,” he grumbled, obviously dissatisfied that so many of you survived. “There are eleven vials of the antidote in case some of you didn’t get yours. And of course you’re all free to leave.”

“What’s to stop us from turning you in… Rawlins?”

The man turned to you with surprise in his eyes. Then he shook his head.

“I guess that explains why Dex isn’t here. I offered him a large amount of money if he survived the night. Guess I won’t have to pay up. And I’m not worried about you turning me in. They’ll never find me once you are all off the property. I’ll never spend a night in jail.”

Having the man’s full attention on you made you feel like your skin was crawling, but you stood up straighter. You had been scared for your life all night. You had faced death and come out into the sunlight. You weren’t going to be intimidated by this small man.

“You’re right. You’ll never spend a night in jail.”

Rawlins looked confused for a split second. But before he could spew any other bullshit, Billy snuck up behind him and rammed the bowie knife under his chin and up through his head. You looked away and closed your eyes, but you didn’t feel sick this time.

You felt safe.

“Someone find a phone and call the cops. Let’s get this over with.”

Arms wrapped around you. You turned and buried your face in Billy’s shoulder.

“So you said breakfast and then not letting me out of your sight for forty eight hours, right?”

Billy laughed and brushed his lips against your cheek.

“At least forty eight hours. Probably more.”

You smiled and tightened your hold on him. The events of the night before would haunt you for a long time, but if Billy was beside you? Well then you’d know you were safe.

“That sounds good to me.”

X

Let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag List @hermioneshandbag​ @onebatch--twobatch​ @smiley-celine​ @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ @starless-skyox​ @youveseen--thebutcher​ @citation-is-here​ @mightymelly​ @realduckvader​ @1550kilogramsofsilver​ @hxbbit​ @rockintensse​ @missphanosaur18​ @thepuffyeyedpuff​ @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw​ @yessy2012​ @gingerstarlight​ @siriusement​ @marauderskeeper​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @wickidlady​ @sassygirl25​ @maraudereestauderelb​ @rainyboul​ @cutie-bug​ @random-quartz​ @holamor​ @lea----b​ @heyitslexy​ @detectivebourbon​ @coffeenmoscato​ @presstocontinue​ @elisemockingbird​ @assbuttwithwings​ @geeksareunique​ @siriuslovesmarlene​ @witch-of-letters​ @delicatelilyflower​ @l-l-c-m-w-b​ @whovianayesha​ @hiddenprincess​ @yannii04​ @brighteststarinthesky​ @kilyra​ @gallxntdean​ @sweetvengeancee​ @lady1505​ @thedarklightwithinus​ @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ @siriuslyimmoony​ @elodieyung​ @fudgeflyss​ @madamrogers​ @thatwrestlingfan91​ @teranya​ @sophiabulbu69​ @delusionsofnostalgia​ @effielumiere​ @mamaraptor​ @hot-and-spiceyyy​ @i-padfootblack-things​ @aya-fay​ @starkrobb​ @raquelbc2003​ @iwishyoucouldbekissed​ @taman-a​ @newtstarmander​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @blushingskywalker​ @queencocoakimmie​ @funerals-with-cake​ @love-dria​ @arrowswithwifi​ @swiftyhowlz​ @cheyfleur​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @margot-black @celestegolden​ @king4thesirens​ @beautifuldesastre​ @ashkuuuu​ @luminex3​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @iblogabout-stuff​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​ @myplaceofheavenorhell​ @nea90sweetie​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @lexxierave​ @binbons-is-theloml​ @lostinthoughts23​ @aikeia​ @christinawxxx​ @rhabakoli​ @leathergreygoddess​ @j-finco​ @sweetybuzz25​ @supernaturalonice​ @jeanettexkillian​ @jigsawlover10​ @gollyderek​ @cafeconsoya @kryyta @russosprettydiamondnow @dorkybryan @mahalobro @yesixoxo @fcavalerro @jeaolusy 

Let me know if you want to be added to my Billy Russo Tag List @something-tofightfor​ @piink-magnolias​ @hoodedhavok​ @aylinnmaslow​ @musingsofbanana​ @bluebird214​ @nerrdstark @that-bwitch​ @queenisabella789​ @colddecember-night​ @j-finco​ @arthoeaesthetixbs​​ @tomhiddlestonsbeard​ @mischiefs-never-managed​ @romanceyour-ego​ @evyiione​ @drinix​ @sweetheart-im-the-boss​ @katieswinforddiaries​ @benbarnesfanforever​ @releasethekracko​ @itsjustmylifeconfessions​ @aveatquevale-​ @clarasworldofwonders​ @ladyblablabla​​ @thehanneloner​ @hellostarposts​ @girlwhoisfearless​ @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​ @marcelskittel​ @fictionwillneverdie​ @avipshamitra​ @hysteriadarling​ @living-on-rice​ @hello-la-v-en-rose​ @marveliskindacool​ @balladblood​ @giggleberts​ @stateofloveandvedder​ @encounterthepast​ @ironstank​ @spettrocoli​ @xserenax-13​ @sleepwalkingelite​ @dreamingofonceuponatime​ @supernaturalcat7​ @rosebunnie​ @damagelove​ @petersunderoos96​ @dylanobrusso​ @littlemermaidprobz​ @agent-scully-182​ @editboutique​ @audreychaz​ @songforhema​ @tngrayson​ @honeyydippaa​ @saltyshaggymeme​ @mooniiieee​ @scorpiosmalfoy​ @woodlandreads​ @malik-payne​ @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @maria-beretta @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​ @ania2603 @screwmesiriusblack @figlia--della--luna @cloudywithachanceofcupcakes-blog @jessicahh @flightoftheflightrisk @slamharder @roschele @thebabblingbook @nostalgic-uncertainty @tiredofthisgeneration @abroadcastofthemind @ethereal-heavcns 

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

I was tagged by @anamelessdragon and @adreamer67 in the Tag X People You’d Like To Get To Know Better meme, thanks! actually I guess it was two different versions with some overlap in questions (and different numbers, hence the X I used) so I just...crammed them all into one post.

Three ships: I honestly don’t have that many ships? I mean, there are plenty that I like, but often not to the point of seeking them out. my only real OTP is Loki & Thor (gen, hence the &). Steve/Loki is of course a good ship, and I’m one of many people convinced of that by @veliseraptor. Loki/Valkyrie is also a very good ship. I’m completely blanking on literally any other ship I’ve ever liked.

Favorite colors: jade? at least, what I consider jade, which is basically a somewhat darker teal? I like a lot of blue-spectrum colors.

Last song I listened to: something by Lord Huron

Favorite musicians: I’m grateful to whoever wrote this for at least making it plural, but obviously I’m still going to have a hard time with it. uh, just off the top of my head...the National, Arcade Fire, Vienna Teng, Bodies of Water, Lord Huron, Hey Marseilles, Marina & the Diamonds, Fall Out Boy, Dark Dark Dark, Earlimart, The Boxer Rebellion, I could definitely keep going if I dug through my iTunes library but that wouldn’t be a good use of anyone’s time

Last movie I watched: Haywire, because it was supposedly leaving Tubi and I remember being vaguely interested when it came out.

Currently reading: somebody on Twitter recommended Year of the Witching a while ago so I put a hold on the ebook at my library, and it just became available, so...that. I think I only started it yesterday. before that I was trying to get through a decent amount of Comixology Unlimited borrows in my 60-day trial, which...I mean, I did read some? just, uh, nowhere near as many as I would’ve hoped to get through in two entire months.

Favorite Character: Loki. I love a lot of other characters, but even compared to other past favorites, there’s really no one else that comes close.

Last TV show/currently watching: Marvel’s Runaways, I think.

Currently consuming: tea. black tea with milk and sugar because I’ve liked that since I spent a whole three months in the UK. this particular black tea is a little weird because it’s got some other stuff in it that theoretically help you focus, which I figured couldn’t hurt even if it didn’t necessarily help (also it was on sale), so it tastes a little strange compared to my normal tea but it’s tolerable.

Sweet, spicy, or savory? I...can’t stand spicy things. like at all. I’m sure it’s largely because my dad always hated spicy stuff so I grew up completely without it, although I suppose I could have made myself develop a tolerance as an adult, but...I just...don’t like food that literally hurts me?? especially because in my experience the “ow burning” part massively overwhelms whatever the actual flavor might be. sweet vs. savory, that just depends on what I happen to be craving.

Sparkling water, tea, or coffee? well first of all, sparkling water is fucking disgusting, so jot that down. also I drink tea of one kind or another literally every day, which is kind of funny because as a kid I was always like “it’s just hot [or cold if iced, obv] bitter water, yuck, why would anyone want that” and like, yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t realize you can put sugar in it. I don’t like coffee coffee, I can tolerate black  coffee with a not inconsiderable amount of flavored creamer, and I like mochas and other overpriced coffee-based drinks where the main thing I’m tasting is something other than coffee. so of those options, I’d have to pick tea.

Pets: one cat and one dog. Hazy is a ridiculous little longhaired Chihuahua mix of some kind and also kind of a monster but I love her to bits. Smocha is...kinda Siamese-looking? we literally found him at the side of the road (shortly after our previous cat died, actually) and he came right over for attention, because he is very sweet and very dumb. unfortunately Hazy and Smocha don’t coexist very well--she considers downstairs her territory and chases him out if she sees him, although apparently they both kind of consider upstairs his territory because a) she mostly leaves him alone up there and b) she gets REAL nervous when she has to go too close to him on the stairs or in the hallway because sometimes he smacks at her, just like, for shits and giggles. I really want to get them to a point where they can both hang out downstairs without anybody losing it, and unfortunately I really don’t know how. which is...true of all training-related stuff. I’ve done a decent amount of research but I get overwhelmed really fast, and if I don’t see progress pretty quickly, I assume I’m doing things wrong.

tagging, uh, @kiwimeringue, @handknit-shipwreck, @erlkonigstochter, @turianosauruswrex, @iamanartichoke, @loxxxlay? only if you have time and feel like it, of course, also I don’t even know how many people I was supposed to tag but my brain isn’t online yet so I’m just going to stop there

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Devil’s No 1(9)

Chapter 9: Past

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: Past? Blast from the past? Idk what the term is.

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: I got scared today. Scared of whether I’ll ever be able to get away and go where I want to go. I got scared of seeing a future of doing something I didn’t like. But for the first time, I heard my inner voice say, ‘hey, remember last year when you used to wait at the bus stop while going to the library to study? Remember how you used to get anxious if you’ll ever get a job? How you thought having a job would make everything all right? You got a job you worked so hard on! That’s a big feat. It’s okay if it sucks now. You make the money and you use that money to do what you want. We’ll find a way out. We always have.’ And for the first time, I stopped myself from getting an anxiety attack. It’s still bad inside my head. But I know we’ll find a way. We always do.

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

"Are...are you okay?"

"When is the Devil ever not okay, darling?"

"...okay."

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm... I'm okay."

"Good."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Do you want to go there?"

"Hm? Where?"

"That building you keep looking at."

Is there anything I can keep from this guy?

You wanted to kill Loki with just your looks at this moment. But as luck would have it- or, more precisely, the laws of this universe- humans just weren't that powerful. It was hard to swallow the fact that you were walking around with the devil but as the night went on, it was harder to get over the reality that the devil was just too much into your business.

"No, I don't wanna go there," you blurted out quickly, never making eye contact with him, deciding to look the other way.

The breeze had slowly turned chillier. You could tell it by how fast it was soothing your burning cheeks every time Loki would get- or try to get- under your skin. Either that or he was getting better at this game.

"Okay, then I'd like to go there."

"Why?" You whipped your head in his direction, nearly giving yourself a muscle sprain.

What. The fuck. Is his PROBLEM?!

He knows, your inner voice hauntingly whispered inside your head, forcing you to spray some anti-conspirator spray at her before bringing your attention towards Loki.

"Because I want to find out what's so interesting about that box of concrete."

"It's nothing. Just a club. It's dead on weekdays anyway so no point in going there."

Loki looked in the direction of the said club, letting the icy breeze carry his redolence to your nostrils. He smelled different now. Fresh. But still with subtle hints of something densely dark and mysterious under that expensive trench coat he wore. The more you inhaled his presence, the more there was some invisible string slowly wrapping itself around you- its end in the devil's paws, waiting for the right moment to pull you, strangle you in his reality, absorb you till the last atom, till you were some forgotten part of him. But there was a part of you that saw things a little differently- your inner voice, to be precise. And she was one to not shut up about it.

Of course, you like the pull, hon, she cooed inside you, writhing in that ecstatic scent, you are always pulled in by the mysterious and dangerous ones. Always drawn into the unknown, like the curious cat you are. And you the unknown likes you back. You know the power you hold over these mysteries, the sway you have.

I don't have anyth-

Shh! She cut you off. You are walking beside the devil, enjoying the foreplay, feeling parts of you rise from the bottom of an ocean whenever he does something to you. You haven't felt anything for a long while before he came, Y/N.

Oh my G-shut up! That is NOT true!

I don't get who you're trying to convince right now.

"Let's bring some life back in that which is dead," Loki smiled with his eyes at you before turning to walk towards the building.

You felt your heart pick its pace as memories came rushing back, pricking you in the chest, in the back, anywhere they could hurt now that you could feel again- even if just a little bit.

.

"Come on! It'll be awesome!" You squeaked, jumping down the road while he tried to look both ways, his one hand always resting on your waist to keep you close because you clearly weren't thinking about your safety.

"Slow down," he begged, his hand struggling to not cross any lines of decency but still wanting to pull you in its hold, bring you closer to him.

But you were already high on the night air.

"We can't slow down," you appealed, wrapping your arm around his, taking in the heat of his body to keep the cold at bay, "I wanna dance! I can't wait! And I wanna make you dance!"

You jumped again, this time in front of him, catching him by surprise.

"Are you sure our food was not spiked?" he asked, the doubt beginning to take firm ground inside his head the more he saw you through the night.

You chortled, your eyes nearly shutting up from the riot of laughter going inside you. "No, silly. It wasn't. I'm just happy high! High on life. High on love." You stopped walking backwards- towards the building- to step towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. "I'm high on you," you stated softly.

This time the hands didn't stop till they made sure the arms had you in the most secure embrace. The lips stretched in a huge lovestruck grin. "I'm high on you too."

Without a warning, those strong arms picked you up to bring your lips closer to his, kissing them softly at first before deepening it with a latent hungry desire.

His kisses were the best. Always different but never devoid of any love. Sweeter than the previous one, passionate than the one before, hungrier than the last time he said he liked you, needier than the time he wanted more. Such a whirlwind that you were glad to ride on any given moment.

"Still want to go?" he whispered close to your ear, nearly making your legs shiver.

"Oh." you whispered back, running your index finder over his cheekbone, "you're not getting away this time so easily, sweetie."

Biting your lips, you took him by his hand, taking him inside where the lights went dim, the bodies increased on every mirrored corner, the thumping of beats grew with every step closer to the dance floor, the chilly breeze was replaced by pheromone-filled air smelling like smoke.

Red and blue- the only hues around you two, everything else a haze in the music, your hips swinging, your hands wrapping around his arms to bring him closer to your back, letting him sync his movement with yours, giving his time to feel the rhythm, your step, your joy. And the next second, he was swinging you around, closing the distance with a dip so smooth you had to convince yourself how real it had been for the next few hours.

"You are out of this world, Y/N," he confessed, holding you close at the surreal beat playing as if it was just playing for you.

"So are you," you declared with a tap to his chin and a wink to those starstruck blue eyes carrying a haze of purple. "So are you, Sergeant Barnes."

.

"Bucky."

The name left the hot air of whisper from your mouth as the fogged up memory of the place in front of you cleared and the previously growing heat inside you got replaced by a cold boulder in your heart. You did not notice the car heading down the street, blaring its horn at you to move out of the way.

Nature worked in mysterious ways with you. It gave you abundantly and abundantly it took. When it was showing you the memory of that past you seemingly wanted to forget for the fear of it hurting you more, you never realised how it made you stand right in the path of life and death. It made you go through it all and bring you to face the many faces it had.

This time nature was called the devil.

You did not even realise when that name had escaped your lips, or when that rusty corner of your brain had lit up because the very next second you were being pulled away from where you were stuck, into a strong embrace. It wasn't the pull that took you by surprise as the vigilant grasp did, not letting you go till the green eyes had stared down the vehicle till they were sure it would suffer from blown tires through the next thirteen days.

Close. Loki was so close to you. You could see every little groove on his face. The crease between his brows as he looked at the driver yelling at you. The colour of his eyes like absinthe collected in those pupils waiting to burn someone. Those lips. They were pink on scrutiny, much to your surprise. God, how could they look so kissable?

"It isn't time for me to go away yet," he stated, his eyes moving down to look at you while just one of his hands freed itself from around you to move away the hair strands blocking his perfect view of you, "so don't die on me right now, darling."

"I won't."

Where did those words come from? You had no idea. But they had been spoken like a declaration made into the night. A promise crossed out in skin and woven in blood. A curse and a cure made with the Devil.

"Well, then-" he let go of his arms around you, his eyes never once breaking away from yours- "shall we walk into that old place and see what it holds for us?"

Curse his voice.

"Something new and bold, I hope," you stated, taking your time before breaking the eye contact and walking towards the building with the boulder still sitting on your heart.

[starfaring-princelotor]

Thinking Ahead

Summary: Lotor realizes that the feelings he has been harboring are not what they seem. 

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, underage drinking.

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead ___Best Friends

“Here you go, two cups of black tea.”

Romelle, bright eyed and equally bright haired student of Hufflepuff, placed two dishes of tea in front of you and Lotor. Professor Trelawney’s reasoning for “switching up partners” is so people would not be too familiar with each other. That way, everyone could get a true taste of variety amongst their peers. Unfortunately for her, she was oblivious to you and Lotor’s growing friendship.

“Ugh, this tea is so bitter.”

“Yes, I will admit, this is not one of my more preferred flavors.”

Black tea was too strong on your palette, but at least the temperature of the drink was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold, and you couldn’t help but grin when Lotor sent you a pointed look the second you started sipping loudly. Where are your manners? You had none, not for some tea leaves fortune telling crap.

“Have you ever had sweet berry hibiscus tea?” you asked out of the blue, peeking at him over the edge of your tiny cup.

“I have. The fruity flavor is delightful with a side coconut jelly,” somehow, this meager chitchat made the bitter liquid bearable, “I took a trip to Maui one summer. Oh, so humid, but not as hot as I would have expected. The locals were, ahem, generous and kind beyond measure. Of course, after they accept you, the ridicule for being a tourist never ends.”

You smiled at hearing that, finding some sort of cruel glee in his suffering, “Yeah? They call you old man because of your hair?”

“Oh, come now, surely that insult is as old as time itself,” he chuckled then grinned at the challenge, “No, no, they playfully poked that I am a fish when it comes to surfing. I quote, ‘Floundering and wiggly.’”

Now, the two of you laughed, and unbeknownst to either of you, Allura’s attention was not so subtly focused on the happy duo. Or at least, how happy Lotor seemed. Romelle took her seat across from her, tilted her head when she received no recognition from her close friend, then followed her line of sight. A mild annoyance began creeping up her spine then she gently slid a hand to cover Allura’s dainty ones, a show of support and a way to garner her full attention.

“Allura?”

The Princess stayed silent for a moment more before tearing her gaze away, offering Romelle a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yes? Pardon me, ready for some tea?”

The concerned look reflecting Romelle’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Nor did the soft way her thumb was gently rubbing over the Princess’ knuckles out of instinctual comfort. They talked about this before, talked about her and Lotor’s previous relationship several times over when she felt those feelings creep back up in her heart. You were right when reading her palm: Allura had an insecure heart, even a year after her relationship with him took a turn for the worst.

But that was not why she was intently watching you two right now.

“Are you alright?” or rather, will she be alright?

“Yes, I am quite fine, thank you,” the Princess picked up her teacup and rest her mouth on the lip, “...Actually, I think I am just...concerned.”

“Concerned? You know he can not hurt you anymore, Allura.”

“Not for me, no. I mean for her.”

A spark of jealousy welled up in Romelle, but she quickly tampered it down before it could be known. You and Allura were not friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, but even so, she could understand the Princess’ bleeding heart for others. Especially in situations that didn’t include her, or need to include her at all. She only wished for the safety for everyone and the blonde girl couldn’t blame her. She cared too much for people and it did get her hurt more than once.

This was not new information to Romelle.

She sipped from her cup then glanced at Lotor, taking keen interest in him when he drank from his own cup, “Allura, do you think he’d hurt her? Maybe we should talk to Shiro about this…”

The Princess finally took a gulp of her tea, hoping it would relax her nerves, “No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather not involve anyone else unless he - Unless I start to notice something. I really am trying to take your advice into practice.”

As in, don’t get in too deep in other people’s lives, ex’s included. It was just hard to do so when the man you once loved is giving someone else that same exact look she felt for him. Or at least, she thought she felt. A year later and it was still so very confusing for her fragile heart. Allura gently squeezed her friend’s hand in sincere apology.

“I am sorry for making you worry,” she continued, “Let’s enjoy this tea, yes?”

Romelle doubted the enthusiasm plastered over Princess Allura’s face, but she knew no words would soothe her troubled mind right now.

Lotor laid in bed with Kova perched on his shoulders, his tail loosely wrapped around the Prince’s neck. The cat would have rather been laying in his lap, but it was already preoccupied with an open book. There were words scribbling fast across the page, yet they appeared not by Lotor’s hand. No, the writing was too big, too loopy to be his.

I nearly threw the book into the fire when you wrote back. You should’ve told me at the dance! Nearly scared me to death. Thought one of the ghosts possessed it or something.

He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his quill. The nub was wearing down. Soon, he would need a new one.

You would willingly traverse into the Forbidden Forest past midnight, but a two-way journal scares you?

I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. Bravery is not in my blood.

Lotor grinned at that. Yes, curiosity and bravery were not of the same definitions.

Did your tea reading spook you of the future?

Why would I believe soggy, yucky leaves telling me I’m going to be attacked?

Maybe it is a sign. Watch out for puddles.

After that, the Prince drew a surprisingly detailed puddle, but then added a stick figure to represent you. There was a frown on your face and he could already imagine the indignant noise you’d make once seeing his creative masterpiece. To his surprise, ink started sketching as an image of, what he could only assume, was HIM appeared over the water. Was that... was that him on his broom? Lotor chuckled in mirthful amusement.

My ears are not that big.

In response, you drew his hair longer. Excessively longer. Rapunzel length longer. Then, the moon appeared. Full, just like that night, and little stars dotting the vacant sky. Lotor’s heart softened at the image you were drawing, not at all thinking about how he was connecting the dots and making constellations here and there. It wasn’t until he saw a single, long line stretch from the bottom of the page to the top and stop there did he tilt his head in confusion.

No more words? Ah. You must’ve fallen asleep on him. It was well past midnight anyways. You had a good idea. Before he decided to snuggle under the comforter in search of dreamland, he wrote three little words. Three little heartfelt words that he knows you’ll see come morning.

Good night, darling.

Lotor’s brows scrunched up in offense at watching you read. Well, he was trying to read, but his eyes caught such a despicable act to nature he had to put his own studies on halt just to make sure he was not dreaming a horrid nightmare. He cleared his throat softly, just enough to catch your attention.

“I had no idea you lick your thumb before turning pages.”

Almost comically, your tongue was still stuck out just as you were about to wet it, “I know, it’s a disgusting habit -”

“Very. Remind me to never lend you any of my books.”

You had to suppress a laugh at his squinty face, almost like he found a fly in his five-star bowl of clam chowder. This time, instead of using your thumb, you swiped the page with the tip of your wand. It seemed this pleased him more than your gross saliva tainting the books and spreading unknown germs to others. Or even to yourself! Who knows how many people have touched these books?

“And remind me never to touch any of your books, too.”

You rolled your eyes yet kept a playful grin plastered on your lips, “One of my favorite stories is World War Z. Have you read it?”

“The one about zombies? Really? That one is the best book you can think of?” Lotor arched his brow, attention focused on you now instead of his own reading, “You know zombies can never really happen.”

“Shh! It could totally happen, y’know. If science can go wrong, why can’t magic? They wouldn’t’ve made reversal spells if magic was perfect.”

“Pardon me, did you just say…” he squinted at you even more, “W...wouldn’t’ve?”

Now, he was baffled at yet another phenomenon you showed him. Unnecessary contractions. Lotor blinked like you just grew another pair of lips on your face, which nearly made you chortle a bit too loud in the quiet library. No other students would even consider staying this late in the archives for fun, yet good company was all you two needed, location be damned.

“You have been hanging around Keith too much, darling,” he reprimanded, yet you didn’t take it at all seriously, “Next thing I know, you will be a brooding jar of angst who mopes in bed all day. Oh, wait, that DID happen.”

It was your turn to scoff in mock offense. How dare he grin that catty grin after openly poking fun at your expense? You almost wanted to retaliate by flicking a paper ball at him. Almost, and you only decided against it when you saw his eyes shine in delighted mirth, half his face hidden behind a book. It was...nice. Not his weak insult, no, but rather the friendly familiarity was quite refreshing between you two.

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don’t...I don’t…”

“Hm? Yes? You do not what? Use your words, dear.”

“Hmph, at least I don’t...Gah, I can’t think of anything!”

Lotor wasn’t flawless, but it was kind of hard to think of one, singular trait you could joke about on the spot. And he knew this. He reveled in making you fumble over your words because, although you were smart, you still needed at least a day warning to come up with a worthy insult. Meanwhile, the scrutinizing observer he was, he could pick at you till the sun comes up.

“It is alright. Take your time,” he nonchalantly turned a page, that air of victory surrounding his smug self, “You can say it tomorrow when you are ready.”

“Quietly. You do not want us to get caught, do you?”

As silently as you could, you lifted your foot and gently tapped the stone with every step you took. How Lotor could pull off being so stealthy, you had no clue. Magic, probably. He was leading you up many flights of stairs in a part of the castle you were not familiar with. Was this the Slytherin wing? No, there weren’t even any pictures on the cobblestone walls. Where exactly were you?

“Ugh, wait, let me - “ you knelt down quickly, slipping off your clunky shoes and allowing the cold stone to seep through your socks, “Okay. Okay, where are we going?”

One hand in his, the other now holding your scuffed shoes, Lotor decided against giving you a firm answer. Instead, he turned over his shoulder, sent you a quick wink along with his signature trusting smile. You stumbled gracefully, blaming the uneven stairs for fault, yet he was strong enough to still prevent you from kissing the floor.

“We are almost there...if you would stop tripping,” cue smile transforming into a playful grin, an excited grin, like a boy ready to see the fireworks start.

“Well, maybe if someone didn’t have mile-long legs, I wouldn’t have to sprint to keep up,” you huffed, that is, until the two of you came across a large gap.

The chasm below, oh stars, how high up did you two travel? This was at least 50 stories high. It was a miracle the stairs were even holding up at all, as decrepit this building was. But...there, across the death hole, was a door which you could only assume was where he was planning on leading you. Before you could even ask him a question, Lotor released your hand then effortlessly leaped across the gap, landing calculated and ever so majestically.

And maybe a little smug when he met your slack-jawed face.

“That is so unfair.”

“Jump. I will help you, do not worry. The gap is not as big as you think.”

You were half nervous and half...excited? It must be because of your curiosity peaking at the sight of the ornate curved door. Surely, no one else would even consider venturing forth with the prospect of a very long drop right in front of them. But Lotor said he would help. Lotor said not to worry. Yet, you shuffled in spot, calculating how much of a running start you would need to make it across.

Meanwhile, the Prince was way too amused seeing you hesitate. He held out his arms as if offering a hug, trying to lure you in with the trust he carefully built with you.

“You drop me, I haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Duly noted, darling.”

That gap...was it just you, or was it getting bigger? Before you could let your nerves get the best of you, Lotor sent you a nod of encouragement and you exhaled a heavy breath. Shaking your arms, you backed up a bit then took a running start, leaping with all the strength in your legs. Don’t look down. Don’t look -

Oh, fuck. Too late. And now, you realized your jump wasn’t nearly as far as it should have been. One foot landed on the edge and Lotor’s instincts immediately kicked in, his strong arms winding around your midsection to pull you close for security. You weren’t sure who made the “eep” noise, no, certainly not you, but you definitely heard him chuckle when your hands clung onto him for dear life.

Your heart was beating so fast. If you were listening closely, you could hear his, too.

“See? That was not so difficult, now was it?” Lotor took a few cautious steps away from the hole, noting your legs were shaking like a newborn foal, “Come, you - ah - dear, your nails…”

You stubbornly shook your head, refusing to let go of your hug as he guided you through the door, “Forests, fine. Flying over a lake? Fine. Leap of death? No. Next time, give me a piggyback ride. I’m not doing that again.”

The door closed behind you two and it was Lotor shrugging you gently to pull your face out of the safe confines of his chest. A dead fireplace, cushions, some thick blankets, half a ceiling missing. This place was in shambles, but it did make you feel more lax, more safe, more secluded. Lotor’s arms fell to his sides to let you explore the humble room, moon missing tonight and sky shimmering with distant stars.

“Here,” the Prince picked up a folded blanket, spreading it out and over your shoulders, “It is only going to get colder and we will be here for a while.”

“Oh...it’s…” the view from up here, so close to the clear sky, you almost felt like you could pluck a gem or two from the night, “You brought me here to stargaze? They look so much clearer tonight.”

Some more shuffling and Lotor wrapped his own thick comforter around his body then sat on a chilled cushion. There was no wind tonight, thank goodness, otherwise this trip he carefully planned might have ended prematurely. Footing your own cushion closer to his side, you also plopped next to your tall friend while tucking your blanket tighter in your chest. Neither of you minded that you two were, as they say, attached at the hip.

“Not only that. Just wait. Give it a few minutes,” Lotor angled his head upwards, nebulous eyes reflecting those twinkling stars and anticipating the phenomenal show to start.

You mimicked him, orbs searching for something in the sky, anything other than those countless dots swimming in the night. Lo and behold, you saw something flicker. And another, this time longer. A shooting star? Many! Many shooting stars blinking in sight, and just like that, you perked up in amazement, in the awe Lotor witnessed that night at the moonstone lake. Lips parted, iris darting across the sky to catch each falling star, you saw 10, no, 12 pass by in the mere minutes you were sitting here.

The cold didn’t bother you anymore, “That’s...that’s like, 12 wishes!”

16 now and soon you would no doubt lose count with how frequently they appeared. You couldn’t keep up with his freckles, shooting stars even less.

“I can’t...think of more than 3 wishes,” your mouth scrunched up in a corner, “I wish tests weren’t so hard.”

“That, my dear, could easily be handled if you studied more,” he reached to his satchel and pulled out two green mugs, “If I recall correctly, the Muggle world believe wishes can be granted by magic, no?”

Your attention diverted to the cup he placed in your lap, fingers deftly picking it up and noticing it...empty. “Yeah, they believe that if you blow a dandelion in the wind, your wish comes true, too. Other things like, uh...something about ladybugs? And eyelashes? A bit silly, isn’t it?”

And yet, he has a suspicious feeling in his gut you tried every possible wishing device at your disposal. Lotor pulled out his wand then gently tapped the rim of his cup, warm dark liquid instantly filling it to tipping point. The steam wafted in the air and you noticed a few mini marshmallows floating in his drink, clumping together in the sea of sweetness. No sooner were you able to voice your question of “How did you do that?!” did he use magic to fill your cup, as well. Less marshmallows, but no complaints from you.

“Well, magic does not have to make sense,” Lotor spoke with a hint of cockiness and, after taking a sip of his drink, he hummed in thought, “Needs a bit more of a...kick, no?”

“A...kick?” you raise da brow, carefully drinking a small portion before smacking your lips together, “Peppermint cocoa? Didn’t take you as a sweets kinda guy.”

“I adore sweets. Chocolate frogs are one of my favorite delicacies,” he admitted, hiding the fact that he also...collected those cards in the package as a hobby.

Lotor pulled out a bottle. A dark bottle, label unreadable in the dim room, then he popped the top off with one strong flick of his thumb. He poured a generous amount of what looked like milky coffee in his cup before offering the tip to you. Whatever it was, there was a whiff of sugary sweetness and, oh...that was alcohol. Faint, but it was there, and you shot a bewildered look at him.

“The Prince drinks alcohol? What would the Slytherin housemaster say?” you feigned shock and, even in the dark, you could see his glowing eyes roll at your words.

“Hush, you. Alcohol is commonly referred to ‘liquid courage,’ no?” to his delight, you held your drink up and he poured a small amount for now, “After seeing your...flawless bravery over that hole, I think some liquid courage would somewhat embolden you.”

You sipped. You sputtered. You stuck out your tongue, somehow thinking it would help get that ghastly bitter burn off your palette.

“Oh, this is - this is disgusting!” and yet, you took another sip, maybe the second time around wouldn’t taste as bad, “How can you drink this stuff? Blegh…”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. Yes, this must’ve been your first drink, but in his mind, it was not strong at all. Still, seeing your blatant dislike of it, he brought his wand up and prepared to magically whisk away your drink and give you fresh hot cocoa. It was you who cradled your mug away from him, holding it like you were preserving a precious, rare golden apple.

“Oh? So, you DO like it, I see,” Lotor’s eyes cataloged the blush gracing your cheeks, either from embarrassment at playing keep-away or from the drink warming up your body.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” you leaned against him, placing all your weight on the sturdy Prince, “I should try it...a third time. And fourth. And fifth. Then I will give you my five-minute review of your peppermint hot cocoa.”

This was so dangerous, sneaking out this late, drinking alcohol, but it was giving you a sense of acceptance, of fun, hanging out with Lotor with no judgement from anyone. No student roles under a teacher’s gaze or homework to be done before noon or responsibilities other than caring for each other in the most spirited of company. Goodness, was he always this warm? You lifted his arm and tucked yourself against him, figuring double blankets would keep you two cozier longer throughout the night. .

“If you fall asleep, do not drool on me. I will wake you, dear.”

Your eyes scanned the page, mouth silently reciting the spell so you could memorize it by heart. Though, with your previous attempts that came out for naught, you knew this was going to be difficult. It was almost as if your wand was purposely refusing to work with you. While the rest of the class was practicing with success, you glared with determination at the potted plant in front of you. Unblooming. It looked nearly dead, to be honest.

“Morning dew, nightly rain

Bring this rose to bloom again.”

Three flicks of your wand, each punctuated at the end of a verse, yet all the plant did was...wilt. And with it, so did your spirit. To your right, before you could even see his smarmy grin, Lotor hummed in amusement at your failed attempts. Rude. You saw out of the corner of your eye that his potted plant, well, blooming was too nice of a word. It was flourishing. Practically a mini rose bush now, orange of all ugly colors.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, trying not to take his mockery at heart and knowing this was just him being a little shit again, “I’m trying.” “Maybe if you said it correctly, it would work. Here,” Lotor faced his already beautiful plant then cleared his throat, voice clear and loud, “Morning dew, nightly rain, bring this rose to bloom again.”

It grew twice its size, nearly tipping the pot. You grumbled, a low “show off” muttered from your lips.

“Now, your turn,” he faced you, watching your every move, from the flick of your wrist to the posture you held, “Your voice must be loud and clear.”

Again, you mumbled, both at his instruction and this dumb plant that wasn’t listening to you. The Prince tsk’d, your behavior and discouragement making him cross his arms. This was stern Lotor now. Not quite the same from the forest, but close enough that if you didn’t heed his advice, he would definitely leave you to fail over and over again.

“Sit up. Do not slouch,” he watched you do as he commanded, “Hold your wand at a 45 degree angle near the plant’s base. Now, LOUD and CLEAR.”

“I don’t like raising my voice,” you finally admitted...stubbornly.

Lotor narrowed his eyes slightly at the excuse. He reached over and scooted the plant closer to you then lifted your chin up with a finger. His eyes didn’t miss the way you stiffened in your seat nor how you easily surrendered to one of his slender digits. For a quick second, his mind flashed to what else he could do to you with just a single finger.

“You do not have to be loud, then. Clear. How will your wand hear you? How will the plant hear you? Now, try again.”

“Tch, now who is the pushy one, huh?”

“You could fail and lose house points. Your choice.”

“Bah! Fine, fine, just - don’t watch me.”

He wouldn’t watch you directly, but he was listening intently now, just to make sure you spoke the spell clearly. Or blow up your plant on accident. A few minutes passed and when you cheered a “Yes, finally!” under your breath, he knew you got it to work on the 6th try. By HIS guidance, no less, but still, it was the results that mattered in the end. A nudge at his side and he raised a groomed brow at you, eyes obviously waiting for a sign of gratitude.

“I don’t like yellow roses. Can I change the colors?” you flipped through ahead of the book, going to the more advanced spells, and he had to stop himself from rubbing the headache forming at his temples.

Fool. Mumbling idiot. You were going to accidentally change the color of your skin if you weren’t careful.

A strange thought crossed his mind then. Were you always this...imbecilic?

Lotor felt sick today. A cold, no doubt, or a fever? He wasn’t sure, but the tonic the nurse gave him only helped temper his body a little bit. The drapes were pulled together to keep his entire room dark and a thick layer of blankets covered his form. Oh, but he was breaking out a sweat now, his least favorite part about being ill. Aside from the migraines, of course.

The journal glowed a faint blue hue by his bedside, the light actually intensifying his headache. You were writing in it, most likely waiting for him to reply, but he was too aching to move any of his limbs. The sick Prince knew that a distraction would help him avert his mind from focusing on his soreness, yet part of him just wanted to...ugh, that brightness was getting on his blasted last nerve.

With all the strength he could summon, he grabbed the book and stuffed it inside the drawer. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Sleep and silence were his best cure for his shut-in self. Eyes drooping slowly, he buried his face into the lush pillow then willed his mind to shut up. For five minutes, just five, let the comforting arms of sleep embrace me. Wish granted.

Though, he roused at the soft rapping of knuckles on his door. He had no idea how long he was knocked out. Could be an hour, could be a day. He wanted no visitors, so who dared…?

A turn of a knob and your face, as well as the hallways blinding light, leaked into the room. His silver brows knotted in annoyance and, with a peek from one eye, he tried to dig even more into his pillow to avoid you. Sick Lotor was an unhappy Lotor. A warning from Ezor when they had reluctantly let you in their wing and led you to the grumpy Prince’s private room. Your footsteps indicated you were right besides his bed, probably just looking down at him in pity. The thermos in your hand suddenly felt a little worthless, but you stood firm in your wavering thoughts.

“Hey, Lotor?” a rumbling grunt as a response, not the friendliest, but you understood his frustration, “Figured you were, uh...y’know, under the weather.”

“I am not sad. I am sick,” came his muffled reply, followed by a cough, “...And tired. Very tired.”

Yes, you know the wretched side effects of being sick. You may be going to a wizarding school, but illnesses still affected everyone. Why couldn’t magic whisk it away? Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, being mindful of his space and the fresh scent of mint wafting in the air, you offered him a soft pat pat on his elbow. Instantly, he cringed into himself, the touch both welcome and a little uncomfortable. You had intended to come and keep him company, perhaps tell him about what you learned in class today, yet all his body language pointed to one option: he wanted to be ALONE.

“Alright, alright, loud and clear,” you weren’t offended by his brusque words, well, maybe a little bit, “Here. Don’t know if you ate anything yet, but there’s some chicken soup in this. Generosity from the kitchen staff after they booted me out for sneaking in.”

You at least expected a chuckle, a quip of “I am surprised they did not turn YOU into soup,” but nothing came. Placing the thermos on his bedside table, you headed for the door and, with one last glance back at him, you offered a soft smile.

“Get better soon.”

The illegal Love Potion was finished and a majority of the class was excited, rightfully so. Everyone was eager to know who their loved one was, their crush, and possibly even sneak a portion out to use on the object of their desires. But not him. He was here for the grade. Lotor adored the dark arts and, although not officially part of the curriculum in his other class, this was just another step into understanding why Love was the strongest curse of all.

And yet, you were shifting nervously in your seat. Hands neatly folded on the desk, knee shaking up and down insistently, and your eyes couldn’t even focus staring at ONE thing. He didn’t understand. The two of you use the same ingredients, so you must be getting the same perfect grade as him. Or perhaps...you, like the others, were curious about what the potion would reveal to you if you took a small whiff.

“Did you...y’know,” you asked vaguely, motioning to his simmering potion.

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

A moment of silence. You knew you had certain feelings for him, but pinpointing them to love or anything stronger than love was what really kept you uncertain. Friends? Best friends? Maybe...something more? Should you ask him? Part of you wanted to, yet another side of you was actually happy with where you two were at now. You trust him. You trusted him quite a bit.

“Wanna do it together?” you asked, knowing there was a few minutes to spare before class started.

Lotor’s silence made you hesitate even more. Not because it was a yes or no answer, but because he was thinking about what he was going to experience. It was no matter of the heart that he already heavily desired you since that mirror showed him what the two of you could be. His thoughts were invaded with you before, yet he couldn’t differentiate between him being a horny adolescent or an actual fool in love.

The Prince sent you a side glance, “Yes. Let us try.”

Both of you gently swept the smoke rising from the cauldron to your noses, preparing yourselves for the answers to the unknown.

Peppermint cocoa. Old library books. Fresh laden snow. Chicken pot pie. A...rose?

You brought a hand up to cover the lower half of your face, immediately knowing where all these scents were coming from. Or rather, who. You...love him? No. That couldn’t be. You didn’t even realize it! How could some liquidy goop know you better than you? But...maybe on some degree, it was true. You love him enough to be such close, vulnerable friends with each other. Enough that you wished his sickness would erase completely from his body that one night. Enough that you willingly leap into his welcoming arms, despite the fear clouding your mind.

The realization...well, it brought you two things. One, a peace of mind now that your question was answered. And two, you found that the damn beating organ in your chest wanted to ask him about these conflicting thoughts. You swallowed a thick gulp lodged in your throat, sparing a meek look at your partner sitting idly besides you. Did he smell...something foul?

Lotor’s face was twisted in utter disgust.

Yes, he knew what his nose would pick up. Chicken noodle soup, white carnations, misty lake water, oak trees, and finely-ground powdered moon stone. With every scent, a new memory flashed in his mind, from that dangerous adventure at the forest lake to the soup he gratefully consumed shortly after you closed his bedroom door. The memories...it made his heart fond, his heart yearn to hold you again, but the smell. All of it mixed together?

It made him want to puke on the spot.

Lotor covered his nose with his hand to block anymore of that potion from reaching his brain. He knew you were staring at him, waiting for an answer, anything, and he knew you were not blind. The growing friendship, the late night cuddling, the hugs, the sentimental time spent together. You must’ve suspected something between you two, some fine line between the moments of vulnerability you shared with each other.

“Lotor, did you - “

Yet, he turned away from you, avoiding looking at you in the eyes, just as the professor waltzed into the classroom. Maybe the smell was too strong for him? Yes, yes, that was a logical conclusion. The potency, when taken too much, can cause nausea. Right? You swear you read that somewhere in the book. It must be the cause of his sudden reaction.

Because if it wasn’t that, then everything else pointed to the other option, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to accept that.  

Lotor didn’t speak to you for the next few days. Sometimes, you thought you saw a glance of him turn a corner. Sometimes, he was hastily shoveling his food in his mouth to leave abruptly. Sometimes, he would spare you a quick, stoic glance before turning his attention to his books. Either way, there was no right time to talk, no perfect moment with his odd evasiveness lodging between you two.

Then again, you tried to see this as openly as possibly. Perhaps he was just busy. Tests and finals were coming up and you, too, were preoccupied with other studies.

“Hey, Lotor, wait up,” you called out to him this time, jogging to catch up before he entered his class.

“Hm? Yes, dear? What is it?”

“Did you wanna head to Madam Puddifoot’s this weekend? After tests and everything. Figure we could use a break, eat some cake, the good stuff!”

Lotor didn’t meet your gaze nor your enthusiasm. Instead, he glanced off to stare at the floor, internally debating something bouncing around that cluttered skull of his. He was a man of few words, even fewer when concerning personal emotions, yet lately he couldn’t even organize his thoughts in a coherent order. There was something bugging him, something deep in his skin, and as your friend, part of him realized it would wedge an awkwardness between you two.

“Ah...no, I apologize,” eyes still glued to the floor, Lotor missed the downtrodden dip of your smile, “Perhaps another time, hm? When things have quieted down and students have gone home for break.”

Yes. Yes, a good diversion, one he didn’t quite think all the way through.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, good idea. Less people would be overcrowding the shop. Just...y’know, the journal. You know where I am at.”

Were you always this...this easy to push around? Odd. He never really noticed it before.

A nod of his head, he turned and left you standing there alone. Not even a goodbye? He really must be stressed.

Lotor was feeling...angry. Frustrated, and not in a way he could relieve himself through some private time alone. Yes, in the confines of his dutiful patrol across the Slytherin wing, he still thought of you, of forcefully kissing you against the wall. Biting your delicate neck with little control until he had his fill of moans and screams. Even pinning your wrists at your lower back as he fucked you from behind made his groin stir in want.

All these images distracted him, but there was something...missing. He didn’t feel love. It was just lust. Just a need to climax, to dump his load into you over and over again. Knowing these thoughts only got worse over time left a bad taste in his mouth. He never wanted to use you for anything, least of all sex. His body wanted you, but his heart...his heart was unsure.

What changed? When did the line between lust and love divert? And why, when he thought of you, did he feel...nothing anymore? 

He would even go as far as to say there was a smidgen of contempt. That’s what was making him irritated. His heart was slowly beginning to dislike you, dislike your stubbornness, your pushiness, even your clumsy nature was grating on his nerves. All those times of you being a fool were true, through and through. You were oblivious to dangers. Not at all patient. Too dim-witted to see your true self, so you relied on others - relied on him - to bring it out of you.

It was annoying, yes. He was not someone to seek attention from. Yet, he couldn’t just say this to you. You’d get upset, cry about it, no doubt. Lotor just didn’t feel the want to deal with your wayward self again. He felt as if he was spending TOO much of his time catering to you and it no longer left a good, fluttery feeling in his chest. In fact, it left him feeling emotionally drained.

What he thought was friendship, or something more, was actually neither of those.

Perhaps that was why he still hasn’t taken that journal out from the drawer.

The two of you were drifting apart.

You finally managed to have at least a few minutes with him. Albeit, yes, it was by pure chance that your curious exploring led you to the same secretive balcony deep within the castle grounds. But, now that you were here, it felt a little awkward to be staring at his broad back. How do you start this? It hurt to realize you were hesitating talking to your best friend.

You were concerned for him, deeply concerned, but how do you say this without saying it?

“Did you follow me?”

The timber of his voice was a little deeper than you remembered. Taking careful steps, you walked up besides him and leaned on the stone railing with your hands hanging off the edge. Stiff, you were both stiff, or maybe it was the trick of the chilly night. The air didn’t feel as warm as it did before.

“No way, how do I know you didn’t follow me, huh?” the accusatory tone didn’t fall on deaf ears, but Lotor didn’t return the usual amusement.

“You should not be out this late. It is past curfew hours.”

It was hard to keep your mood from turning sour at his terse answers, but you had to remind yourself that this was Lotor. Your best friend. You missed him, even this moody side of him. Perhaps another joke would help? Maybe some light hearted teasing?

“Oh, c’mon, classes are over. What’s wrong with a little midnight adventure? Last one too exciting for you?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“I know what you are trying to do,” Lotor’s shoulders slumped and finally, he looked at you straight in the eyes, “I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

The words spilled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, “Lotor, I’m just trying to help.”

“Did I ask for it?”

“No, but - damn it, you helped me. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

Annoyance. That was all you could see flit across his face and it stung deep within your chest. You tried to put on your best pleading expression, something to show that you really were worried about him, about his distant self, about his walls being rebuilt brick by brick. This wasn’t like him, not at all.

“People usually help out of the goodness of their heart, not as some sort of debt to repay. ”

“That’s not what I meant. I just - you’re acting different.”

Again, wrong words to say. You knew it, you felt the sudden shift in the air. Saw the way his jaw clenched in restrained control and how his eyes hooded low in a paralyzing glare. Pushing, you were pushing too much, and Lotor was getting very uncomfortable. And, as usual, with his discomfort came the need to...protect himself. Retaliate with words to disarm you completely.

“Oh? And you are unhappy with this ‘different’ side of me? Is that why you seek to help change me back?”

“No! Of course not, Lotor. When I wasn’t myself, you showed me - look, I don’t know what’s going on with you - “

“No. You do not. Perhaps you should have been more observant,” he sneered at you, hitting hard at the fact you were an airhead most of the times.

You brushed off his comment, but it left a lingering ache in your heart, “Or you could just - WE could just talk. Just one night, get whatever it is off your chest and I’ll do the same.”

“No.”

You anticipated the answer before even offering the suggestion, especially knowing deep down that neither of you would be comfortable with speaking so openly about emotions. Foolish, you weren’t thinking ahead, thinking about what you were saying before letting it slip from your tongue. Talking to him like this was insufferably frustrating. It was wearing down your patience, HIS patience, but your stubborn persistence is what would tip the breaking point. You were never aware of this.

“Then what do you want to do, Lotor?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Again, his voice was being degrading and part of you wanted to scoff at him.

“I came here by myself for a reason.”

You could at least piece two and two together, even if the sharp edges left biting wounds on your skin.

“...You want to be alone,” you finished for him, sad you had to say those words out loud for both of you to hear.

Lotor needed time to sort out...whatever this was. And, judging by the way he averted every single one of your questions, this had nothing to do with you. Nothing you COULD do, except give him the space he needed unless you want to find yourself facing the brunt of his cold shoulder and burning words again.

You hated this feeling, this feeling of being rejected. Shunned.

“Fine. I’ll give you your space.”

“Thank you.”

Lotor sure didn’t sound truly thankful, but at this point, you didn’t much care. If isolation was his way to handle things, then you would let him do it. Even if it cost you the friendship and whatever feelings evolved between you two. Something that neither of you got the chance to further explore. That revelation made the pit in your stomach sink in sadness.

The hot, angry tears of frustration wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks as you turned and marched away from him.

[hightress]

The Grumpy Cat And The Barista

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

AO3 Link

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairing: Kiribaku, Bakushima

Characters: Kirishima, Bakugou, Todoroki, Jirou 

Additional Tags:  Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, writer Bakugou, Barista Kirishima Eijirou, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Crack, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Cat Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)                    

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 5,796

Summary: In which Bakugou needs a place to write and learns that a Kitty Café is definitely not the best place to do it.

OK, so here's the deal. Bakugou didn't enjoy writing - not the act of it anyway. It took too much time and the rewards were too little to satisfy him. His back ached after a day in front of his computer and his eyes stung because of the screen. He hated it. If he could, he would've thrown the laptop out the window without any regrets. The only reason why he didn't was that, despite all pain and wasted time, it helped him.

He's never been a patient person and he just couldn't suffer to see or hear certain things sometimes and do nothing. It was so easy to get angry just by walking down the street. Just having someone bump into him and say nothing or hearing the screams of the still hangover students that lived close to him was more than enough to make him want to act, either by shouting back at them or punching something, even someone's face. And, apparently, that wasn't a normal reaction to have.

It wasn't Bakugou's problem that most people were too terrified to have an opinion.

So, if he couldn't react in real life as he wanted because, c'mon, being arrested for something as petty as a shouting contest or light punch was the furthest thing he needed in his life, he was going to do it somewhere else. In a place that he could control and punish people that annoyed him as he liked.

Of course, writing hadn't been his first choice. Or his tenth one. But it worked better than any sport ever could.

The paper listened and never judged. Never tried to fix him or nagged him to be a better person. Just took his anger, his harsh words and turned them into something.

"Die!" shouted Bakugou, using the pen in his hand like some sort of knife, leaving messy marks all over paper as he finished another paragraph. Alternating the computer with the old-school approach was a new thing, but it worked nevertheless.

A sigh could be heard from the other side of the room.

"Did you just kill me? Again?" asked Todoroki, voice full of exasperation. He was lying in his bed, messy hair coloring his light blue sheets and eyes closed. Exhausted was the best way to describe him at that moment, clearly stated by the dark circles under his eyes. Having an exam at 7 in the morning was tough and a small break after was understandable, but to someone like Bakugou, it felt like a complete waste of time.

Bakugou's only answer had been a snort. He's spent enough months with Todoroki since they've both moved in the flat at the beginning of the year to understand him properly and hate his guts.

(Not that it would've been difficult to get Bakugou to hate something.)

Whenever he looked at Todoroki, all he could think about was 'wasted potential'. Extremely smart, with enough family connections to make the university's attempts of getting the students decent placements seem like a joke, he had everything he needed to be the best in their year. He was close to the top, but for Bakugou the word 'close' ruined everything. Why be 'good' or 'decent' when you can be the best? The second place wasn't good enough. And would never be for Bakugou.

Bakugou could only dream about such connections and, for an aspiring lawyer, they were everything.

The saddest part was that Todoroki had so much more than that. Bakugou had seen him in action - defending a case, building it up. He was good. More than that, he was impressive, but only when he was serious about it.

So, yeah, Bakugou hated him and, since he couldn't punch Todoroki, killing him was a great alternative. After all, even his breathing pattern annoyed Bakugou sometimes - he wrote about it. And took it to the extreme.

"It's the third time in four chapters, isn't it? If you ever hope to publish that, don't you think your readers will complain?" asked Todoroki, not impressed by the act itself. He got used to Bakugou's antics after the first two months. Getting murdered in a fictional story wasn't that fascinating.

Bakugou answered immediately in the only way he knew how to communicate - loudly.

"They'd rather thank me for getting rid of your stupid ass," he shouted. "Now shut up, you piece of shit. I need to focus on this."

Todoroki opened one eye to look at him.

"Do you even want it to be published? Is there some action besides the random killing?" Both were legit questions. And Bakugou had no idea how to answer either of them.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Say one more word and I'll make it four times. Don't test me," he threatened, fingers tightly clenched around the pen, ready to keep his word.

Todoroki didn't say anything after that, just closed his eyes and rolled over, his back facing Bakugou.

For a good full minute, Bakugou really believed he fell asleep.

"You know," he suddenly spoke again, startling Bakugou and breaking the illusion, not moving an inch. "If you really  want to write, maybe you can do it in a place where it'll be easier for you to concentrate."

Which could've translated as 'I want to sleep and you're screaming too much'. Or not. It didn't matter.

Despite what a huge part of him wanted - which was to shout some more at Todoroki or even throw some ink in his face - Bakugou considered his proposal. It didn't sound that bad.

"Like where?"

He didn't know what he expected, but having Todoroki deep in thought for a period of time too long to be socially acceptable only to blurt out a weak  "A park...?" definitely wasn't it.

"A park?" repeated Bakugou. "Are you dumb, assface?" When Todoroki said nothing in his defence, Bakugou explained "There are hundreds of kids in there. Hundreds of loud, bitchy little shits. Fuck no, I'm not going there."

Why did he even try to ask someone like Todoroki in the first place? His social skills were disastrous and that, coming from Bakugou, meant something. He still found himself asking further.

"Any other ideas, genius?"

After another short pause, Todoroki answered, even though his confidence in his own words was just as absent as the previous time.

"Maybe... Maybe a coffee shop?" he said, clearly aware of how unhelpful the suggestion was for someone like Bakugou. For any other person, a place like that might've worked, but surrounding Bakugou with gossiping teenagers and filling him with caffeine? Bad combination.

"Like every single loser? Classic. You're so fucking useless," said Bakugou as he sat up. He grabbed all his papers and his laptop, shoving them all a bit too aggressively in a backpack.

None of them doubted the state of the papers inside - horribly folded and almost ripped in two or three places. Another thing that made the bag heavier than necessary was a law textbook that Bakugou intended to finish by the end of the week. End of exams be damned, he refused to fall behind. That way, if he didn't feel like writing, he was sure as hell not going to waste time like a fucking wimp.

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he looked one last time at Todoroki's back and shouted for good measure, just to be an asshole.

"Enjoy your damn nap!"

He closed the door with a loud 'bang' and left the building one minute after that, still undecided about where he was headed. He contemplated going to the library - it would've been quieter at least - but, at the same time, since it was part of the university, he knew the chances of meeting someone that knew him were pretty high. And he definitely didn't feel like dealing with any of them, especially when he was working on something so personal.

Todoroki finding out had been an accident, to begin with. He didn't want to share his written work with anyone. It was his business, ok? If he felt like murdering people, it was his fucking decision. The last thing he wanted was some moron's opinion about how he should be doing things.

So, yeah, he had no idea where to go, but that's what Google Maps was for, right? He'd only need to type 'café' once and decide on one close enough.

(Todoroki's idea still sucked. But Bakugou couldn't think of anything more decent and he didn't have time to waste on something so stupid.)

The maps would've been a wonderful option. Incredible even. Sadly, because Bakugou had to be Bakugou, he forgot to charge his phone the day before.

"Of-fucking-course," he muttered under his breath shoving the phone in one of his pockets. He had no other choice but to walk around like a freaking tourist hoping to find something where he could work in peace.

Surprisingly enough, after fifteen minutes of searching like a retard, all he managed to find was a bakery (which was a huge no) and a place that only sold bagels. Again, a huge no.

It took him ten more minutes to reach a building that had 'Café' written in huge, bold letters above the door and when he saw it, he didn't bother to read what was placed before or after any other shit. He was thirsty and annoyed and tired and even if he hadn't actually wanted a drink before, he sure as hell wanted one then.

The second he stepped inside, he realized he made a mistake.

There was purple - everywhere. Purple cushions, purple pillows, purple uniforms, purple toys. Yes, fucking toys, for cats because - guess what - there were cats all over the damn place.

Did Bakugou mention that he couldn't stand cats? They were whiny and needy and lame and he couldn't care less. How people managed to live with them and not murder them in the middle of the goddamn night was a fucking miracle.

He was already turning around, ready to leave the place and go write on the bus or some other shit like that, when one of the people working there had the audacity to talk to him. And Bukugou, being his usual self, didn't listen to any word the person said. However, as soon as the other finished the sentence or question or whatever, because Bakugou had been raised to be polite enough, he moved his head to the side to shout his usual 'Fuck off' before exiting the building, only to swallow his words when his eyes met the person that addressed him.

And what left his mouth had been a non-contained shout of "What the hell is that?", followed by an awkward silence.

Everyone stared at him, unmoving. Funny how the entire atmosphere of the shop changed in a millisecond because of something he did. He didn't give a fuck.

The person that got that reaction out of him didn't frown, didn't complain about the volume or anything like that. He just sat next to the desk at the entrance, looking at Bakugou with confusion.

"That wasn't very specific, man." said the guy, tilting his head to the side. Not that Bakugou followed the movement, still too intrigued (and disgusted) by the top of the other's head, unable to tear his eyes away from the weird shape found there.

"Do you call that hair?" asked Bakugou, his volume high and words unfiltered. But how could he do anything but that when that haircut (did he really pay for that shit?) was such a disgrace to human nature?

It was red, but not any kind of red, that type that literally jumped in your face and attacked you with the intensity of the colour. The worst part, however, was its entire form. Hair wasn't supposed to work like that - spikes of different sizes defying gravity and looking like an absolute mistake.

Why were they all staring at him like he just killed Jesus when his question was so fucking valid? They couldn't have not thought about it at least once in their sorry lives. If they thought he was rude, they were either used to lying to themselves or plain stupid.

Judging from the place they were at, either working or fucking around, it could've been both.

Only one person in the entire damn shop didn't seem to take it to heart. The single damn guy that had the right to actually feel attacked.

"Yeah. Isn't it cool?" he asked, smiling brightly and genuinely, as of Bakugou had just complimented, not only his hair, but every single thing about him. His eyes (also red because of course they had to be) were sparkling, for fuck's sake.

How the hell was Bakugou supposed to react to this? He couldn't scream 'I just insulted you, moron. Why the fuck are you so happy about it?'. Actually, he could, but he didn't want or need to make conversation or some shit like that.

So he settled for the better alternative. A growled, "It looks like something died in there."

Not even that kind of comment wiped the smile from the bastard's face. "Never thought of it that way. But it's a good thing, right?" It was unnerving.

Definitely not, thought Bakugou, gritting his teeth.

Was the guy on drugs? Before Bakugou could think this through, the other's grin only widened, if that was even possible. He scanned Bakugou from head to toe and exclaimed "Love your shirt, man. Is it from Forbidden Planet?"

Bakugou instinctively looked down at himself. To be honest, he had forgotten what he had thrown on himself in the morning. It was a normal occurrence - it was black and loose, that's all he needed to know. There was a skull on the front, contrasting heavily with the dark background. It was sick. Bakugou loved it, but that didn't explain this stranger's enthusiasm regarding it. Or what that Forbidden Planet place was.

He hated not understanding things.

"Huh?" he asked, or, more exactly, emitted with confusion. The sound was loud enough to make the person next to him cringe at the volume, but, somehow, it got covered completely by another voice, this time from one of the losers working there.

"Kirishima!" shouted a girl, her headphones hanging around her neck. The guy turned towards her instantly. "Are you going to do your job or not?"

He didn't grimace, didn't show any specific remorse. Just stayed as a sunny beam of bullshit.

"Yeah, sorry. In a second," the guy promised and looked at Bakugou once again. "It's an awesome shop two streets away from here. Definitely worth checking out," he explained before quickly adding: "By the way, I'm supposed to ask - do you have a reservation?"

"Was I supposed to?" Reservations were stupid and why the hell would he even make one? He didn't intend to stay anyway, not with all that purple and the constant meowing of hundreds (more like fifteen, but who was he to count) of cats.

Kirishima - the red tornado guy of sunshine - didn't seem to get the memo. "It's kind of a rule. Don't worry though, we have enough space at the moment. Just wait for a second and I'll fetch you a table."

"I don't need a damn table," mumbled Bakugou, his words muffled by the cries of three or four cats that decided to open their goddamn mouths in that exact same moment. It wasn't surprising at all that Kirishima didn't hear anything from him with all that noise.

He simply grabbed Bakugou's elbow (who the hell did that to a stranger, what the fuck?) as gently as possible, while still having a pretty strong hold on him and manoeuvring him around the café as if he was a bag of chips. Which, he, obviously, wasn't. It wasn't that big of a shop anyway and, in the 20-30 seconds it took them to move around it, Bakugou realized a couple things.

First of all, the guy needed to fucking let go of him or he was going to end up dead for real, not just on paper. Or cremated or some other shit. Second of all, having 'enough space' was a freaking lie. They barely had a chair to spare and the ones that were available had at least one cat acting like a complete brat on top of them. There was even a table where a guy had been forced to sit on the stairs next to his friends in order to let one of those furred fuckers to keep his seat. Such a wimp. If he allowed an animal to order him around and control his life, he definitely deserved to be called a loser.

And, lastly, why did these people have a perfectly fine table for two in the far corner of the shop unoccupied when it was so clear that they were overcrowded? Because that's exactly where Kirishima took him.

"Is this ok with you, man?" he had asked as he positioned Bakugou right in front of the table, his hands tapping twice his shoulders before letting him go.

Bakugou, uncharacteristically, didn't comment on the gesture, too confused about being moved around and touched so familiarly to function as he normally would - with a lot of trashing around and screams and murder promises. Not that he couldn't get to that later, as soon as he snapped out of it.

"Whatever," he said instead, moving his head to the side, not wanting to stare at Kirishima more than necessary. He wanted him gone already. Having him this close made Bakugou feel like he was slightly suffocating.

And some God above must've pitied him enough to answer his wish.

"I'll take that as a yes then," said Kirishima and smiled. "Sadly, I have to go and help some other customers, but I'll be back to you shortly. Order anything you want, I promise they are all good."

After that, he left, and Bakugou found himself standing next to the table he's been led to, no knowing how to react. But it would've been weird to chose that moment to get out of that place, especially after his interaction with Kirishima. He knew that. That's why he decided to stay, nothing more, nothing less. As he lowered himself to his seat, he noted the softness of the pillow stuck to the chair. It might've been coloured like a glowing unicorn skin, but he couldn't really deny its comfiness.

The menu was placed neatly in the centre of the table and, from the looks of it, was going to stay there for the rest of the day. Call him picky or whatever, but he wasn't going to touch something that had pink lettering, badly pixelated as well, on top of a violet pattern of a cat in heat. (It had hearts instead of eyes, sue him for having an opinion. It was a horrifying image anyway.)

He took his time to lay down his things, taking in the whole atmosphere of the shop. After all, if he wanted to work there, he needed to decide if it was possible to focus with all of the continuous noise and movement involved. It wasn't as bad as he initially thought, the loudest thing to be heard were the voices of the employers and even they didn't give Bakugou an excuse to get lost. The only apparent problem remained the cats - the most volatile subject included in the equation. He didn't know what to expect, if any of them scratched or if they were going to leave hair all over his things if he turned around for merely a second. At that hour, most of them seemed to be asleep, only two or three walking around the shop with their tails high in the air like some self-declared divas. Only one cared for human touch, the others running away before they were even approached.

Bakugou didn't blame them. He would've done the same after he made them bleed if he had sharp pointy things at the end of his fingers and someone had nothing better to do than to annoy him.

Even after he had the whole table turned into his own personal desk, he didn't start, just kept looking around, not sure himself what for. All he knew was that his eyes kept looking back at the strange guy from before, either by accident or attracted by the energy in his voice.

He was entertaining to watch, to say at least. And his hair was starting to feel less and less like the worst part. As soon as he noticed the uniform, he flinched, unsure how he had missed it before. One would think that by that point Bakugou might've gotten used to the colours, but that definitely wasn't the case when he felt like tearing his own eyes out just by glancing twice at the pink and violet paw patterns placed all over their aprons. The silver glitter didn't make it any better. All of that - including the mandatory fake cat ears that everyone working there seemed to wear - had the potential to work on a girl. It was girly, it made sense, and it could be seen clearly in the shop since most of the employers were of the opposite sex, but on a male like that Kirishima? He didn't get it.

It seemed like a bad marketing strategy.

Bakugou could see muscles under that shirt, decent ones nevertheless. Why have something like that hidden just because their stupid uniform demanded it?

As soon as he remarked this, looking away became even more difficult. He had to force himself to move his attention back to his work and, even when he did, it took him a few minutes to focus properly. After that, it was easy to lose himself in his words, paragraph after paragraph lying there one after the other, bloody and way too descriptive for a simple therapeutic piece of writing.

He had little over a page finished by the time he got interrupted and a much calmer mind to deal with the rest of the world.

"Hey," said Kirishima, appearing from his left, a small notebook in his hands. Once again, too casual, too close, too soon. "Sorry, that took a while. What would you like me to bring you?"

Bakugou stared at his face, silent for a few moments, still trapped somewhere between his the place built by his words and where his body was actually placed. It was a weird feeling, not bad exactly, just difficult to describe. When he managed to answer, Kirishima was already looking at him with something close to concern in those red eyes of his.

"I don't care," he said and, despite the harsh wording, his tone was soft, as if he breathed the words out, not said them.

It was unusual, wasn't it? To answer something like that. Kirishima didn't seem to mind this either.

"Oh. Do you need more time or do you want me to recommend something?"

How could he be so patient?

"I'm not sure I trust your taste," replied Bakugou, not intending to be rude, but stating something he felt the need to let out.

"Don't worry, dude. I've got you," said Kirishima cheerily, closing the notebook and throwing it in one of his back pockets. "I'm assuming you're not into the whole extra-cream-extra-sweet thing, so maybe you'd like Jirou's orange espresso. Or her chocolate ones. Or the ones with a bit of caramel in the mix. Your call."

Who the fuck is Jirou?  

"They all sound terrible. What do you make? Or are you here just as some sort of mascot?"

"I make the tea. The manager doesn't really let me try more than that after last week's accident."

Did he even want to know about the incident? Probably not. Tea definitely didn't sound too bad compared to the other drinks.

"If I order one would you let me be?" he asked, wanting to be left alone. He had things to do and didn't have the time to chat with strangers.

And Kirishima... He... He had the fucking audacity to wink at him.

"We'll see."

Why wasn't Kirishima acting like a stranger towards him? It was weird for so many reasons. All those jokes and interest were happening too suddenly and Bakugou wasn't able to catch up with all of it. Was he acting like this with all customers or did it happen to be Bakugou's (un)lucky day?

Bakugou followed him with his eyes for a while, craving the answer to this question. Kirishima did talk a lot and whenever he approached a table, his smile grew wider and, in the back of his mind, Bakugou kind of wanted to touch his face and see if it was real or not. It looked real and, when Kirishima did it in front of him, it kind of felt real as well.

In all honesty, if Bakugou could admit something out loud, it was that he was selfish enough to want the smiles Kirishima gave him to be different than the rest. All those people, they had friends and family smiling at them like that every day. Bakugou didn't. He never thought he would want it, but he did. He really did.

People were scared of him or, at best, their smiles were mostly teasing, born out of boredom. He didn't fucking need teasing or anything as shallow as that. He wanted something truthful. Something real.

Bakugou didn't touch the paper. Didn't write a damn word. Just kept looking from the corner he was seated in, eyes widening whenever he saw Kirishima glance his way. It wasn't as rare as he would've expected but definitely not as much as his ego needed.

Sadly, it wasn't just Bakugou who craved his attention. Two cats were playing between his legs, purring and placing their tiny paws on his dark jeans, doing everything in their power to make Kirishima give them a few seconds of his time. He did it with the widest grin on his face, stopping mid-sentence during his conversation with a customer, and picked them up both, placing their cute fluffy heads on his chest as his arms carried them without a problem.

The contrast between the solid muscle and the gentleness of the gesture made Bakugou want to bark at the scene.

He wasn't jealous of a cat. He wasn't. That would've been idiotic.

"So..." started a feminine voice, interrupting his line of thought. "Do you want the tea now or should I come back later, once you're done trying to skin Kirishima alive with your eyes?"

It was the girl from before, the one with the short pixie-cut and headphones. Her tone had been a mix between monotonous and amused, her mouth forced into a straight line and her eyes full of mischief. Bakugou didn't know her and definitely didn't want to, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stay silent at her accusation.

"What's your problem?"

"I've been standing here for a full minute trying to figure out how to serve the tea Kirishima made for you, but you were too busy making lovey-dovey eyes at him to notice." Before he could explode, she kept talking. "Do you want it or not."

"Of course I do." he raged, taking the cup out of her hands. Which might've not been the most polite or normal move, he could give her that, but it was too late to excuse his sudden action. "And I never make that lovey-dovey shit. What the hell?"

Her nose made one of those movements - getting all wrinkly on one side in a judgemental way - and she stared at him flatly as she spoke again.

"You're quite the poet, aren't you?"

"And you're quite a bitch."

(The comeback of the century, wasn't it?)

She rolled her eyes so hard it must've hurt. "I have no idea why I expected Kirishima to be attracted to someone normal this time," she said to no-one. She threw him another short glance. "Definitely not the case."

That was the moment in which Bakugou would've probably cracked her skull open. Fictionally, obviously, he wasn't a barbarian. He didn't, however, because he kept replaying the first half of her words.

It must've shown on his face because she snorted and said: "You can't possibly be that blind."

Despite the insult, he couldn't really comment on it. Not when his brain was suddenly working like a maniac, trying to see what kind of gestures could've given the girl that impression.

Had it been the touching or the familiarity in his way of talking? Or maybe the wink, that one definitely seemed out of place, considering the fact that they've just met. It was difficult to tell.

"So, jerkface," the girl addressed him again. "Do you want his number or not?"

He could've said no without missing a single beat. His hesitation to do so was speaking volumes. He wasn't thinking about any storyline or character or action-packed scene full of blood and gore, no. Instead, he kept looking less and less discretely at Kirishima, his eyes tracing those impressive arms and back that simply seemed to jump out of that stupid shirt, only to go back to his contagious smile. If it hadn't been to that smile, Bakugou was sure he would've been outside long before the girl opened her mouth. Or he would've scoffed and mumbled a short 'fuck no', before ignoring her. But, as the situation stood, he couldn't say that he was against the idea.

Bakugou hadn't been honest with himself earlier when he insisted on being left alone. The guy intrigued him. His brightness - God, it sounded so idiotic to call it that - was something he couldn't comprehend. He wanted to know more. Wanted to understand how it worked and how he could smile so much and be so open, even to people he did not know.

The girl gave him all the time in the world to make up his mind, not rushing him in the slightest. Secretly, he was thankful for that.

He moved his head to the side, seeing another one of those furry creatures blinking repeatedly as if trying hard not accommodate their eyes to the light. Served them right for sleeping so much. Brats.

As if possessed by something, Bakugou found himself almost smiling at the image. Somehow, the stillness of the cat calmed him. It was weird, he knew.

It's just a number, anyway. It's not like I have to call the guy.  

(Yeah, he probably wouldn't call. But messaging was another thing entirely.)

He raised his chin towards the girl and, with a new and probably strangely placed determination, he said: "Give it to me."

She did. After a few threats, of course, but who was Bakugou to listen when he had so many other things to focus on? (Apparently, she also mentioned some sort of entrance fee that Kirishima forgot to tell him about or ask for, which was outrageous. Bakugou thought he heard the price and he really wished he hadn't. Thank fuck he had only ordered some pitiful tea. His wallet wouldn't have been able to cover anything else.)

The girl left his table soon after that. Bakugou didn't hesitate. He drank the tea as if it was a shot of tequila, not a mix of hot water and leaves, and threw the amount of money he owed Kirishima on the table, as he sat up. Didn't wait for Kirishima to approach him again and collected his things in silence.

He noticed those red eyes follow his movements and he stared right back at him, this time without any hesitation. His steps were loud and firmly placed on the ground as he moved towards Kirishima. When he got close enough, he stopped for a second, barely enough to say a sentence.

"You'd better check your phone, asshole." No smirk was added at the end of it. No smile or anything else. He said it bluntly, in the most serious way he could muster.

Because if he was going to do this, it had to be a serious matter. He didn't do flings. He didn't do relationships either and, if it, by any chance, was going to end up in that direction, it had to start the right way.

Kirishima's face stayed blank for a few moments, probably taken aback by Bakugou's sudden change of attitude. Or by how cryptic his words were when thrown in his face like that. It didn't take long, though, and his face erupted in one of the most blinding smiles Bakugou had ever seen. So fucking bright it could've probably made any lamp feel incredibly useless.

"Sure thing, man," he said, his voice rich and full of life. He patted Bakugou on the shoulder twice, the strength of his arm easy to remark without it being too much for Bakugou to handle. He quite liked having that kind of weight on his, pressed on his skin.

Their eyes stayed connected for a bit longer, a few seconds at most, before both of them moved away, Kirishima turning his body halfway towards the customers he's been talking to before Bakugou interrupted him, and Bakugou continuing his walk out the door.

Nothing stopped him this time.

He glanced at the door before he let go of it, seeing Kirishima's vibrant hair colour even though the dirty mirror, the sound of it closing being louder than he anticipated.

He stayed there for a bit, right in front of the coffee shop, blocking the entrance, his phone still in his hand, the contact list visible to anyone who passed by him. And there, right in the middle of the pace, two centimeters away from his thumb, stood Kirishima's name.

Well, not actually his name, but a nickname Bakugou saw fit. 'Shitty hair' - what a horrible nickname. But Bakugou liked it.

Despite everything that happened that day, the stupid nickname did it. It made him smile. Properly. So brutally genuine it should've made him sick.

As he moved his thumb across the screen, he realized something. He didn't regret going inside that coffee shop. At all. Not even 0.001% of him.

He tossed the phone back in his pocket and started to use his feet. The laptop on his back was heavy enough to be a constant reminder of the reason why he left the house, but Bakugou didn't feel like writing anymore.

He wasn't in the mood to murder anyone at that moment. Just wanted to go home, throw himself on the bed and shout at Todoroki to get the fuck out of his room so he could text Kirishima without any distractions.

He liked this plan. He really, really liked this plan

[minyardcva]

tagged by @nneiljostenn thank you!! i know it’s so late, sorry!! <33

1. rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 blogs!

a - age: 18! 

b - birthplace: kraljevo, serbia

c - current time: 10:02pm

d - drink you last had: i’m p sure it was black tea 

e - easiest person to talk to: my close friend

f - favorite songs: oh bOY. runaway train definitely (thanks nora), edge of seventeen, everything by harry styles tbh, higher ground aka denmark’s song at the previous eurovision (i’m not saying they were scammed but they were scammed) uhhh too late to say goodbye and a whole lot of anime songs

g - grossest memory: when one guy sneezed and left snot in my tea in kidergarten. disgusting

h - horror yes or horror no: i’m a huge scaredy cat but i still try to act tough so idk what to say

i - in love:  nope

j - jealous of people: i try not to be but yeah sometimes

l - love at first sight or should i walk by again: i love the idea of love at first sight, but i need some time to connect with the people before i fall in love. i’ve been hurt really badly once so now all my walls are up, thank you

m - middle name: don’t have it

n - number of siblings: one smol sister

o - one wish: to get out of this country and become a well-known writer

p - person you last called: my mom. she’s the only one i call lol

q - question you’re always asked: what college do i plan on going to lol   

s - song you last sang: digimon’s butterfly (i did Not cry much)

t - time you woke up: 12 p.m. i’m on a winter break and milking every moment of sleep i can get

u - underwear color: white

v - vacation destination: my biggest wishes right now are japan and russia, but i’d like to visit so many more places

x - x-rays: my first one was when i broke my leg 10 years ago (THREE days before my BIRTHDAY) and my last one was of my chest a year ago

y - your favourite food: mmm maybe green peas and mashed potato? or mac and cheese

z - zodiac sign: virgo

2. rules: put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs

king - lauren aquilina

lost on you - lp

woman - harry styles

ako je vrijedilo išta - vanna

loner - yungblud 

mama - my chemical romance

kаждый раз -  Монеточка

can do - granrodeo

Братья - anastasia and veronica golovina

gashina - sunmi

i’m tagging @murdereyebrows @magnusmangobane @glitterghost @knox-knocks @karlacton and everyone who wants to do this :)

[lizziethereader]

a bunch of 11 questions tags

I was tagged in a few 11 question tags over the last few weeks and am finally getting around to them. I hope you don’t mind me putting them all together in one masterpost under the cut. 

thank you so much  for tagging me @anassarhenisch, @thereadingchallengechallenge, @books-are-portals, @maddie-mux and @bibliophilecats! I really do appreciate getting tagged even though it takes me a while to doing the tags. 

I’ll put my own questions and the people I’m tagging up here and the answers to all your questions under the cut ;) 

my questions: 

1. What are you looking forward to most when it comes to the upcoming holidays? (whichever holiday you want to refer to) 2. Have you been to a concert lately? Which one?  3. Which piece of media (book, movie, video, etc.) are you looking forward to consuming next?  4. If someone wrote a fictionalized (and heavily embellished) novel of your life, which genre would you like it to be? 5. What’s the last song you had stuck in your head?  6. What’s the weather currently like where you are? 7. How many open tabs in a browser is too many? (asking for a friend) 8. Are you good with money? (if so, teach me your ways!) 9. What’s the coolest thing a teacher of yours has ever done? (I wanna become the cool teacher, so I need to do some research, haha) 10. If money, space and time didn’t matter, which animal would you like to have?  11. Share a random fact about yourself! (please?) 

I’m tagging @bookvoyage, @lilymaidofgallifrey, @dreamingofreadinggoals, @aliteraryprincess, @flamingmirrorbookish, @the-forest-library, @manuscripts-dontburn and @thelivebookproject (no pressure though)  and anyone who just feels like doing this, of course! 

sooo, let’s get crackin! 

here’s @anassarhenisch‘s questions: 

1. Celtic rock, yes or no? 

I have honestly never listened to it... I’m not averse to give it a try though!

2. What’s the last book you quit reading?  quit as in abandoned? I don’t really do that... The last book I finished reading was ‘Big Mouth and Ugly Girl’ by Joyce Carol Oates

3. What’s your favourite fall activity?  baking and drinking cider! (yes you can do that all year round, but it just feels cozy, right?)

4. Do you believe in ghosts?  I’m probably a ghost agnostic. I don’t know if they exist but I’m not saying they don’t

5. When’s the last time you went to a circus or carnival?  There’s this big children’s festival in my town for two weekends every August and there’s always a circus, too. They did a special performance for all the volunteers who help with the festival and I went to that. So, long story short, like 2 months ago?

6. What does your favourite shirt look like?  hmmm good question. If we’re talking about T-shirts then it’s probably my Portal shirt. 

7. Do you like eating fish?  hahaha, not at all actually! I rarely meet other people who don’t. But yeah, I actually don’t like any seafood. 

8. Who’s your favourite artist?  oh man, this is a very difficult one! I’m not sure I can name a favorite. I like just being in awe of a piece of art (be it a painting, piece of music or something else) and I wouldn’t say I have one person I like better than all the others. Sorry for the lame answer!

9. Do you have any celebrity connections?  none whatsoever (that I know of) 

10. Are you a sports fan?  only equestrian sports and even then I don’t need to see every event there is. But I do enjoy watching the occasional tournament

11. How comfortable are you embarrassing yourself in public?  NOT AT ALL. Good thing I became a teacher then, eh? :P 

next up: @thereadingchallengechallenge‘s questions: 

What are you currently reading?  I just started reading Children of Blood and Bone!

Favourite snack?  I can’t pick just one, so: popcorn, macadamia nuts, chocolate covered raisins and all things chocolate :D

Do you set yourself a reading list or pick books by mood?  half/half. I have some types of books to read each month (1 poetry book, 1 classic, 1 nonfiction book) and then choose one of those based on my mood. And then I randomly select 3 books from my tbr. Those are always a surprise! 

Have you travelled anywhere so far this year?  Yup. I went to Germany 2 times (to a theme park), flew to London for book shopping and musicals twice, and went to Budapest with two friends for a weekend 

Reading anything spooky before Halloween?  Not really. I’m not a spooky books (or movies) person. 

Binge watching anything at the moment? I just finished binge watching Star Trek Discovery yesterday but I’m sure I’ll find something new soon. 

Who’s the author you’ve read most?  Douglas Coupland, apparently

What’s your favourite season and why?  Spring! Everything is getting warmer and greener again, my depression gets better and things are just generally looking up (usually)

Are you looking forward to any new releases?  I don’t think I’m waiting for anything at the moment...

What’s a quote you love?  “No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars” from Oscar Wilde’s Lady Windermere's Fan

Recommend a book?  With pleasure! It Devours! by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor 

then we have @books-are-portals‘s questions: 

1. First thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “waffles”?  the amaaaaazing waffles at my town’s children’s festival each year. Also Leslie Knope 

2. Have you ever knitted anything? What was it?  When we learned to knit in school I knitted a scarf but I haven’t knitted anything since and I’m not sure I still could

3. What’s been the weirdest book you’ve enjoyed?   idk, what’s a weird book? Welcome to Night Vale is purposefully weird, if that counts? I’m not sure I’ve read any proper weird books...

4. Pick a random book from your shelf and recommend a film based on that book.  book: Tin Man by Sarah Winman - movie: Third Star (totally different storyline, but similar vibe, maybe?)

5. Top 5 clothing items.  - not really clothing but my riding boots (I love them. They fit me perfectly and weirdly give me so much confidence??)  - my new Pikeur breeches (yup, riding stuff again)  - the black business dress I graduated in (both High School and university)  - my Dirndl (you gotta have one if you’re Austrian :P )  - my (fake) leather jacket because it makes me feel cool  not sure this is an accurate list since I don’t really think about clothes much... 

6. Name the first song that comes to your mind based on your current read. Why that song?  hmm, I’m only 50 pages into my new book, this is very difficult! maybe ‘Battles’ by Hudson Taylor? The lyrics just seem to fit and I have a feeling the book will be harrowing, which the song definitely is. 

7. Would you rather visit the Moon or Mars?  I kind of want to go to Mars and see if Curiosity Rover is alright. 

8. What’s your favourite scent?  top three: freshly cut grass, new tires (I know, this one is weird), and the smell of tress like cedar, fir, and pine 

9. What’s the last thing you ate? Was it good?  kinder Schoko Bons and YES. 

10. Name 3 positive things you’re good at.  don’t do this to me! uhmmmmm reading? singing? maybe cuddling cats? 

11. What’s the strangest word from your first language(s)?  Well, I don’t really know what would be strange to you but I’m really fond of ‘oida’. It’s sort of an exclamation that can be used in a lot of different ways and its meaning depends on how you say it. So it could mean you’re really disappointed, angry, shocked, disbelieving or it could just mean something like ‘dude’. I love it and use it way too often considering it’s sort of lower class slang, I guess. 

aaaand here’s @maddie-mux‘s questions: 

1. First fictional crush?  I’m not entirely sure. Maybe Ziegenpeter from Heidi? :’D 

2. 11 authors (dead or alive) who you would want to spend a night in a haunted house with?  oh no, that’s a) way too many people and b) not something I would ever want to do 

3. Kiss, Marry, Kill - authors  I don’t really feel qualified to answer this. I don’t really get into people as much as I get into their characters and fictional universes. Doing this with real people feels weird, too, because I don’t want to do any of those actions with anyone.... I’m sorry to cop out of yet another of your questions!

4. One author whose books you automatically buy, of no matter what?  either of the Green brothers

5. Favourite fictional place?  maybe Night Vale? But not because I want to live there, just because it’s so wacky. 

6. Kiss, Marry, Kill - characters  this one is easier!  kiss: Poet from Trick (before he is spoken for, of course, I’m not a home-wrecker!)  marry: farmer Oak from Far From the Madding Crowd  kill: there’s so many to choose from! but I really really hate Aaron from The Knife of Never Letting Go!!

7. Favourite place to read?  on the go 

8. 11 characters who you’d take for an eternity on a tropical island?  nope nope nope - there’s nobody I would want to spend eternity with 

9. Hands down, all time favourite book and why?  you should be ashamed of yourself! you know most readers can’t answer this question :P (well, I can’t anyway)

10. Favourite fictional nonhuman animal character?  is it too basic to say Black Beauty? 

11. Fiction or nonfiction?  both! I read more fiction, but I wouldn’t want to live without nonfiction in my life! 

last but not least, @bibliophilecats‘ questions: 

Your favourite word from your first language.  I’m gonna use one of my previous answers for that and say ‘oida’ just because it’s so fun and versatile. Do you know ‘oida’ in your part of Germany? 

And your favourite word in any language.  Not sure I’d pinpoint it as an absolute favorite, but I quite like ‘alas’ because it sort of embodies my view of life, haha 

Name 5 positive things about yourself.  5?? It took me 10 minutes to come up with 3 for one of the questions above! Unbelievable...  - I try my best to keep an open mind  - I try to also get my students to do this  - but I also like to question things  - I’m not blind to my shortcomings  - and I do want to become a better person, though I need to put more effort into it 

And now 3 things you are good at (I kept that one from @books-are-portals list because self-love is important)  I am NOT coming up with more because I am absolutely unable to do so. Sorry! (yes, I have issues, I know)

What’s your “Patronus”-memory, i.e. the happiest moment in your life?  ooooh good one! maybe the day I got my degree and graduated from university. (because leading up to this point my mental health was so bad I wasn’t sure I’d live to see that day...) 

Recommend a book which you think I should read.  maybe ‘Welcome to Night Vale’ or ‘It Devours!’? 

Do you set yourself a reading list or pick books by mood?  both! see above for a more detailed answer

Did you make friends on tumblr that you met (or want to meet) in real life?  I would love to meet quite a few of you! (sadly I haven’t, yet)

Last book you read that was completely outside your normal reading preference. Why did you pick it up and did you like it?  Probably the Kite Runner? I picked it up because sooo many people and many of my friends love it. I, however, did not. 

Favourite christmas book?  I haven’t read many so far, but Dash and Lily’s book of Dares!! 

Favourite christmas movie?  I’ve always loved Miracle on 34th street but I haven’t rewatched it in years so I don’t know if it hold up

[darkwing-katy]

Second Chance - Part Six

(No gif because I’m posting from a hotel with crappy wifi…sorry, haha)

So our family vacation is going to throw things off a bit in terms of me posting. I probably will not be able to post on Sunday for the next two weeks, but I’ll still be writing, so when vacay is over, I’ll for sure be a ble to post a few chapters pretty fast. I already know what’s gonna happen in the next few chunks, it’s just writing them and then editing and then posting that’s the time consuming part, haha. Thanks to everyon who’s commented or messaged me and reblogged this story! It’s so amazing to see how much everyone’s enjoying it! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in upcoming chapters!

Also, special thanks to @sannvers for proofing this chunk!

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 7,876

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress offers you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @hobbithorse19 @leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames @geeky-girl-394 @were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16 @certainasthesvn @jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower @bitchingqueenoferebor @scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow @lovelylpevensie @uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord @elenawrit @the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy @arkhamsnight @imoyu-trashblog @martapetrovic @ciaprincess @juggernaut-jones @admerxin13 @fangirlx26 @epicfallenismine @izzymaria1994 @loveablelulu13 @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @kylorenlover15 @banana-cat @withouthannah @stone0502 @shiroyuki18

Previous Chapter

The problem with living in a gigantic castle full of servants, you found, was that there wasn’t much for you to do besides wander around or read. Oh, sure, the servants were constantly bustling around, either cleaning or cooking or some other chore, but you were used to being productive. You loved reading, but part of the fun of reading was getting chores done in order to read.

It was your only fourth day in the castle, and you were actually bored, lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

“How is this even possible?” you asked yourself. Your room gave no response, earning a sigh from you. “I’m lucky. I somehow became friends with someone who fell in love with a prince and now I’m living a fantasy. People would kill to be in my shoes right now.” You sat up. “No wonder Arabella created those elaborate daydreams. She lived in a secluded mansion, and she was probably just as bored as I currently am.”

You could always visit Gaston, the darker voice in your head suggested.

You actually did want to visit him and see if his sleeping had been improved by the pillow. However, whenever you thought about bringing him breakfast, the mental image of him rubbing his thumb across your wrist popped up, making you balk at the idea. You had lain in bed for almost an hour before you’d fallen asleep last night, trying to determine his motives for such an action. Ultimately, you’d came to the conclusion it was not because he had feelings for you, but rather because he was bored and lonely and you were the only human being who took the time to speak with him.

Let’s hold off on that for now, shall we? You stood and began to dress for the day, slowly as your hand was still sore, all the while trying to figure out what to do. “I could read. I could take a long walk around the gardens. I could talk with Mrs. Potts or maybe become friends with some of the others.” Your stomach grumbled. “I could eat—yeah, I’ll definitely do that.” Your dress was now on, and you started brushing your hair. “I could write a letter to Mama and Papa. That might be good. Oh, I wonder if they’ve written me?” You twisted the (Y/H/C) strands into a braid. “But they wouldn’t know I’m living in a castle now, so if they did, the letter would be at the house in Villenueve. Which means I’d have to go there and risk running into LeFou again.”

But why is that a bad thing? You stopped and admired your braid in the mirror. “I guess it isn’t,” you said, replying to your mental question out loud. “It’s just…I don’t know. I feel bad for him.” You shook your head. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with this someday, won’t I? Might as well get it over with now.”

You pulled your boots on and laced them up, decision made. You were going into town for the day, which meant you needed to see if Belle would bring Gaston lunch.

You found her in settled into a chair in the library. Adam was nowhere to be seen, although you were sure he was somewhere nearby.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Belle said, not looking up from her book.

“Bonjour, Belle. Can I ask a favor?”

This time, she looked at you, forehead crinkled with curiosity. “Of course. What is it?”

“I’m going into town today. I‘ll be back by supper, but I was wondering if you’d maybe bring Gaston some lunch?” You were proud of yourself for not blushing at the request. It seemed like you were finally getting used to the situation. “I’m going to bring him some food before I leave, but I wanted to make sure he’d get something between this morning and this evening.”

Belle smiled warmly at you. “Of course I can do that.”

You grinned back at her. “Thanks. You’re such a great friend, Belle.”

She laughed. “You’re not too bad yourself, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes, which made her laugh again. “I’m joking. You’re a great friend, too.”

You tossed your hair dramatically. “I know,” you replied with a fake air of pomposity.

Belle raised a brow. “Obviously Gaston’s ego is rubbing off on you,” she said, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes.

You gasped in mock shock. “How dare you say such a thing! I’ve always known I’m a fantastic friend.”

The two of you giggled. Once you’d calmed a bit, you told your best friend farewell and made your way to the kitchen. You waved at Mrs. Potts when you saw her, and she waved back. You grabbed two apples—one for you now, and one for later—then began to pile food onto a plate for Gaston.

“I’ve never seen someone eat so much food as you do,” a small voice said behind you. You turned and saw Chip watching you as you grabbed a full loaf of bread.

“Chip!” Mrs. Potts hissed, clearly mortified at his words. He glanced at her and shrugged.

“What, Mama? I’m just saying!”

She marched over to his side and gave you an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m afraid Chip doesn’t quite understand how rude it is to comment on a person’s eating habits.”

You laughed, fully amused by both Chip’s comment and Mrs. Pott’s reaction. “It’s quite alright. I’m not offended in any way.” You winked at Chip, who grinned at you.

“See, Mama? It’s okay! She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re funny? Is that what you think?” Mrs. Potts rubbed his head affectionately, mussing his hair. “How about you go help Plumette dust for an hour? Then we’ll see who’s the funny one.”

Chip pouted. “Aww, Mama. I hate dusting.”

You took a bite out of your apple while Mrs. Potts chided her son. “That’s what you get for being rude like that. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before saying something!” She gave him a small push. “Off you go.”

Chip trudged off, still pouting. You tried to hide your amusement with the apple, but when Mrs. Potts turned to you, you could see that she was also amused. “I’m so sorry about him,” she apologized again.

“It’s fine, really.” You dropped your apple on the tray and lifted it.

“Do you need any help with that?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You smiled at the older woman and exited the dining room. From there, you went up the grand staircase and through the familiar open door that led to the cell.

“Good morning, Gaston!” you called when you were close enough.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he called back, and you couldn’t resist a wide grin.

You opened the door and sauntered in. Gaston was standing next to the door, ready to take the tray from you. You handed it off to him and remained standing while he sat, not seeming to notice that you weren’t following suit until he glanced back up at you.

“You’re not sitting,” he stated plainly. You shook your head.

“I actually have to leave. I’m going into town today.”

Gaston’s shoulders slumped, indicating his disappointment. “Ah. Might I ask why?”

You smirked at him. “I’ve got a bet to win.”

Immediately, he perked up, a handsome smile stretching across his lips. “I see.”

“Yep.” You saw him pick up the apple you’d bitten into and lifted your hand. “That’s mine.”

His eyes flicked to your raised hand and to the apple, as if he was contemplating taking a bite just to annoy you. You cleared your throat, earning a cheeky wink from him as he tossed the fruit back to you. You caught it in your bad hand and grimaced at the twinge of pain it produced. “How’s your hand?”

“Better.” You tossed the apple to your other hand and flexed your fingers. A good night of sleep had done wonders, but it would still be another day or two before they didn’t hurt.

You thought you heard him mutter, “Good”, but when you looked back at him, he hadn’t moved or given any indication of saying anything. You chose to react as if he hadn’t spoken. “Belle will bring you food later. I’ll be back this evening.”

“Is that a promise?” He was staring at you again with those green eyes. You found yourself nodding but maintaining eye contact.

“Yes. I’ll be back tonight,” you repeated, this time more firm.

He turned back to his food. “I’ll be looking forward to hearing that story about the church, then.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the cell. “You’ll be looking forward to that for a long time,” you replied. His laughter echoed down the steps with you as you left, giving you a warm feeling inside.

You did have a letter from your parents. It was tucked under a rock on the stairs that led to your small cottage. You retrieved the letter but didn’t open it. You wanted to take your time with everything today.

“Oh, there’s dust everywhere.” You stared at the interior of your house and the fine layer of dust that had settled on everything. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected that.” You rolled your shoulders, getting out the small kinks that had formed from riding, then walked over to the small cupboard where you stored your broom.

As you began sweeping your dirty house, you scolded the household items. “Oh, floor. I haven’t even walked on you in a week! Why are you like this? Table, you’re next, so don’t be laughing at the floor.” The familiarity of being home was relaxing, and soon you were singing to yourself. “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try.”

Hmm, I should say hi to Maurice while I’m here.

“Sometimes our happiness is captured. Somehow a time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts, and always will.”

Despite your initial complaints, the house wasn’t truly that dirty. You’d finished Maurice’s song at the same time you finished sweeping. You replaced the broom and set to work on wiping down the table and chairs, this time humming a peppier tune. You didn’t realize you were humming LeFou’s ode to Gaston until you were nearly done with it, and you paused for a moment.

He really cares about him, doesn’t he? You thought, glancing at the rag in your hand. And here I am, letting him think that Gaston is dead. You sighed and resumed wiping down the fireplace mantel. You needed to tell LeFou the truth. But it can wait a little bit longer.

You effectively killed a couple of hours by cleaning your house. You’d rearranged things a bit, you’d dusted literally everything, and you’d made your bed (which had been unmade all of this time!). You stood back to admire your work. With an appreciative nod, you grabbed the letter from your parents and stuffed it into your satchel, along with a few folded papers containing recipes that you’d stumbled across. You didn’t care if there were servants who could make a cake—you hadn’t baked anything in a long time and when you’d seen the recipe that your grandmother had always used, you’d been struck by a sudden desire to cook again.

You left the house and made your way into town. You passed by the baker, and, after a moment of consideration, bought a small meat pie to snack on. You made a contented sound when you took the first bite. Castle food was perfect, but this pie tasted like home. It tasted like sitting in Belle’s house, laughing with her and Maurice when he spilled paint all over himself. It tasted like sitting in the hills overlooking Villenueve, reading and daydreaming about grand adventures. It tasted familiar and new and wonderful and ordinary all at once.

You were so lost in your memories and the pie that you didn’t notice Peré Robert until you’d nearly run into him. Fortunately, he saw you and stepped out of the way.

“Good day, (Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in a while,” he greeted warmly.

You looked up from your pie. “Oh! Peré Robert! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” You held up the pie. “I was too busy enjoying this.”

The older man laughed, prompting a smile from you. “It’s quite alright. How’s the castle? Belle mentioned that you were staying there now.”

“She did?” She must’ve visited him yesterday. “It’s nice. And it’s huge! The Prince has an enormous library filled to the brim with books of all sorts—but I do miss seeing you whenever I want something new to read.”

He laughed again. “Well, I can’t say I’ll ever have quite as many books as the Prince, but you may still borrow any books you’d like from me.”

You grinned. “Thanks.” You turned to walk away, then spun back around. “I have a question, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Do you know if this town has ever been invaded?”

He frowned as he pondered your question. “I’m not sure. I haven’t lived here all my life, and I can say that there hasn’t been an invasion of any sort since I moved here.” He nodded towards the market, where you could see Monsieur Jean feeding his horses. “Monsieur Jean has lived here all his life. I’m certain he might know.”

You nodded. “Thanks.” He nodded as well, and the two of you parted ways with a wave. You took another bite of the pie before heading towards Monsieur Jean. “Hello, Monsieur Jean!”

“Why, look, it’s (Y/N)! How are you, dear girl? How’s castle life?” The older man smiled at you.

“I’m well, thanks. And castle life is good. Your wife makes the best tea.”

Jean smiled. “Ahh, yes, Beatrice has a special talent when it comes to tea. No matter what kind it is, when she makes it, it’s perfect.” He leaned in close, as if he were to whisper a secret. “She also seems to know what kind of tea will make a situation better. It’s like magic!” He winked, and you were amazed at how different Jean was now that he’d regained his memories. He was always friendly, yes, but now he seemed positively jolly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why haven’t you moved into the castle yet? I’m sure she’d love to be close to you. And Chip would love to have someone to play with.”

Jean’s smile dimmed. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “They’ve remembered me all this time, but I haven’t remembered them. What if they don’t want to be with me?”

You shook your head. “That’s not the case at all! Trust me.” You gave him a big smile.

The older man face brightened. “Really? Then I shall begin packing tonight!”

You laughed at the older man’s enthusiasm. “I do have a question, though.”

“Fire away, (Y/N)!”

You leaned against one of the stable posts. “Has Villenueve ever been invaded?”

Jean frowned. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that to be your question, but yes.” He sat on a barrel. “It was, oh, probably about fifteen years ago? Before the war.” You worked on eating your pie while he spoke. “There were a few Portuguese invaders—I suppose they were scouting the area for weak spots prior to the war. I don’t know for sure why they attacked, but they did. Perhaps they thought Villenueve was a small village and wouldn’t resist.” He chuckled. “They were quite wrong, of course.” He met your eyes with his. “There’s a reason we all loved Gaston so much, you know.”

You had just eaten the final piece and had to cover your mouth to keep it from falling out as you gasped. “What?!” you exclaimed, not bothering to worry if you were being rude by talking with food in your mouth.

Jean chuckled again. “Oh, yes. He was a young lad then, about sixteen, if memory serves, and he managed to rally us all up. I don’t know how or why he did it, but he did.”

“I’ll tell you why,” a sharp voice cut in. The two of you turned to see Madame Clothilde watching you with a sneer. “It was because of his father, Monsieur Legume. He wanted to show off.”

You stifled a snort at the name. Gaston’s last name is Legume? Why am I just now learning this? I mean, I guess I never cared too much about his last name, but wow. That’s worthy of a tease later.

Clothilde and Jean ignored you. “Now, Madame, we don’t know what happened in that house,” Jean said in an attempt to chide her.

Clothilde rolled her eyes. “I guarantee you, if he’d had a proper mother, then he wouldn’t have done it.”

“Then we would have been destroyed!”

“I’m just saying, it’s not appropriate for a man of that age to take on the responsibility of saving us!”

“Yes, perhaps so, but we’re lucky he did. He was smart and charismatic, and that’s why we survived.”

You coughed. “So…Gaston really did save the village when he was sixteen?”

Jean nodded. “Yes, he did! He saved us all, and then he went off to fight in the war and returned a Captain. Our very own hero. Until, of course, you know…” He trailed off, and the three of you remained in silence as you all remembered that night.

“Do you still think of him that way?” you asked quietly.

Clothilde scoffed and crossed her bony arms over her chest. “He went crazy that night. But he was going crazy before that. He just needed an excuse.”

Jean frowned at the older woman. “I seem to remember you were among the first to follow, Madame.”

She gave him a dirty look. “And I seem to recall you joining in as well, Monsieur.”

You suddenly felt like you needed to defend Gaston’s actions. “Maybe he truly believed that the Beast would harm the villagers. Did you ever consider that, Madame? And since you all considered him the town hero, he felt like it was his duty. His intentions may not have been completely altruistic, but that doesn’t mean you should be calling him crazy!” You felt yourself getting louder as you spoke, but you didn’t care. You knew that his main motives were jealousy and narcissism, but that didn’t give her the right to talk about him like that!

Both Jean and Clothilde were staring at you, mouths agape at your small tirade. You turned to Jean. “I hope to see you at the castle soon. Thank you for your help.” You sensed that Clothilde was preparing to respond to your rant, so you strode away before she could say anything.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” you heard LeFou call from behind. You ignored him, but he easily ran up to you, getting in front of you to force you to stop. “(Y/N),” he repeated.

“What?” you snapped.

“I couldn’t help but overhear—well, you were practically shouting!” he added when you glared at him. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about Gaston.”

“What of it?”

He flinched at your tone, reminding you of a small child. You felt a twinge of regret. “I just thought it was nice of you to defend him like that.” He stood aside to let you pass, but you remained motionless.

“Thanks,” you muttered, staring at the ground.

He clapped your shoulder, sending you forward a little. “Sorry. Do you want to take a walk?”

You nodded, sensing that this might be a good time to tell him the truth about his friend.

He motioned forwards, towards the entrance to the town. “Lead the way.” You started walking, the stout man next to you. “You know you were wrong, though,” he said as you passed the wig store. “About Gaston.”

“Yes.” You caught a glimpse of the three bimbettes through the window, giggling at each other. “I’m well aware that his motivation stemmed from jealousy towards Belle’s affection towards the prince-turned-Beast as well as an unhealthy amount of a hero complex.”

LeFou winced at your words. “Yeah,” he agreed. “So then why did you defend him?”

You had almost reached the entrance. “Because she shouldn’t be so quick to point fingers when she was just as eager to storm the castle as him. And because she shouldn’t call him crazy just because he made a few bad choices.” You considered your words, then added, “Or rather, a lot of bad choices.”

LeFou gave you a perplexed glance. “I thought you hated him,” he said slowly. “Why do you sound as if you pitied him?”

“I hated his actions towards my best friend, but I didn’t hate him as a person. Although I came pretty close once you told me what had transpired between the two of you.” You gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it can’t mean much, coming from me, but I’m sorry he did that to you.”

He smiled at you, clearly grateful. “Thanks.”

There was a silence as you began trekking up a nearby hill. It was early in the afternoon by now, and you loved the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin. I wonder if Gaston can feel the breeze in his tower.

“What’s wrong?” LeFou asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realized that.” You tried to smile, but it came out feeling forced. Now’s as good time as any to tell him, right? “LeFou, I have to tell you something.” Without realizing it, you started walking faster. The shorter man sped up to keep at your pace.

“What is it?”

You stopped and turned. You could see part of the village from here, and if you continued to the top, you might be able to see the castle in the distance. “I…” Just tell him already! your mind screamed. “I…you know how you were asking me if I saw Gaston fall?”

LeFou stopped walking. “Yes,” he said carefully, watching you.

Tell him! “What if I told you that I did?”

Emotions ran across LeFou’s face. Confusion, relief, fear, despair, and others that you couldn’t identify. “What?” he asked dumbly.

You sighed and started playing with your braid, unsure how to proceed but knowing you needed to. “I…you told us where he was, and Belle and I got separated. He was on a bridge between towers, and he shot the Beast. Then he fell.” You took a deep breath. “I tried to save him, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

You glanced at LeFou to see his reaction. His eyes had tears in them, but he seemed to be keeping them confined to his eyes. “So…he’s dead, then,” he mumbled, looking at the grass in despair.

“Not exactly.”

His head snapped up so fast you heard his neck pop. “What?!”

Your fingers were starting to tug apart your braid and rebraid it. “He did die, but…he’s not dead now, if that makes sense.”

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?”

A light breeze caressed you, almost as if it was encouraging you. You forced yourself to look LeFou in his dark brown eyes. The wind tossed his hair around, and he was watching you intently, hope and desperation evident on his face.

Just do it!

“He’s in a cell in one of the towers,” you finally confessed. “The Enchantress that cursed the Beast appeared to me and offered a second chance at saving him. Uhm, I took it, and I got there in time and I saved him and now he’s locked up and no one knows about it except the Prince, Belle, and myself. And you, I guess.”

LeFou opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. You said that Gaston died, and now you’re telling me he’s alive?”

You cringed. “Yes?”

LeFou took a moment to process your words. He ran his hand through his hair as he contemplated the veracity of what you were saying. “Let’s say I did believe you. Why would you of all people bother saving him?”

It took a minute for your brain to realize he was doubting you. You dropped your braid, slightly frustrated. “Because I care about him!” you exclaimed. Immediately, you threw your hands over your mouth, but it was too late. You’d already admitted it. At least you didn’t say that you love him. That would be bad.

“You do?” the shorter man asked softly.

“Just because I’m not as obvious as you with my affections doesn’t mean it’s not there.” You hadn’t meant it to sound as cold as it did, and you regretted it. LeFou’s face hardened, though his eyes were still teary. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed. But at least his eyes softened at your apology. He sighed, inhaling deeply with his next breath, and then his face broke into a small smile. “But Gaston is alive?”

You returned the smile. “Yeah. He is. Alive and as annoyingly flirtatious as ever.”

He laughed loudly at that statement, and you saw a few tears break free. “Well, that’s Gaston for you. He never knows when to turn it off.”

You shook your head. “No, no he doesn’t.”

Another breeze brushed past the both of you, rustling hair and clothes. “Wait,” LeFou suddenly piped up. “The other night. Why didn’t you tell me he was alive then?”

Because I was afraid? Because I’m selfish? Because I didn’t think it was important? “I don’t know.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you deserve to know.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I should’ve told you then, but I was afraid. When I saved him, I asked Adam—the prince—to keep it quiet.” You sighed. “I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. Sooner or later, people are going to find out, and I don’t know what I’ll do then.” You waved a hand towards town. “I don’t know how they’ll react. I made an impulse decision and now I’m dealing with the consequences.”

“Do you regret it?”

You shook your head rapidly. “No! Not once.” You thought for a moment. “Well, okay, I came close once you’d told me what he’d done to you.”

LeFou’s eyes widened. “You stormed off. I didn’t think too much of it, but I remember you storming off.” He frowned. “What happened?”

“I yelled at him. And then I punched him.” You held up your bruised hand. “Didn’t do as much damage as I’d hoped, but it felt good.”

LeFou snorted. “I bet it did.” He crossed his arms and shook his head slowly. “I was right, then.”

You cocked your head and furrowed your brow. “About what?” you asked, curious.

The breeze knocked a few strands of hair into his face. He tossed his head to clear his mouth of the hair. “There’s something between you two.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “You’re talking about him as if you consider him a friend, even after everything he’s done. You told me just now that you care for him.” He began ticking off his fingers. “Then there’s the obvious tension between you two, the fact that he complained about you as often, if not more, than he talked about Belle….There’s something there.”

You blushed. “No, I’m afraid you’re wrong.” You glanced at the sky. The sun was bright, forcing you to squint. “I mean, I’ll confess that I feel affection for him, but it’s one-sided.” You smiled sadly to yourself. “Even if he acts a little less boorish than he used to. I think it’s because he’s bored. I’m the only one that spends time with him, you see.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw LeFou shaking his head, his nose crinkled in disagreement. “He let you punch him. It’s one thing if it’s playful and flirty, but I’m assuming it was anything but that.” He grimaced. “Not that he’d hit a woman back, but he has a temper, and he wouldn’t just take it.”

“He was probably thrown off by how furious I was,” you muttered.

“That’s the thing. Why would your anger throw him off if he didn’t care about your opinion? If you were just the woman who kept Belle away from him, your anger wouldn’t mean anything.” A cloud covered the sun, shading everything for a few minutes. “There’s a thing there. Apparently it’s an unspoken thing, but it’s there nonetheless.”

You laughed in an attempt to dissuade LeFou. “I’m telling you it’s one-sided. I like him, he’s bored, and Belle is no longer an option. There is no unspoken thing.”

He shrugged, clearly not believing you. “So then what’s he doing right now?”

“Well, Belle probably brought him some food for lunch. Usually, I do that, but since I came to town today…” You stretched your arms out. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s reading?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to visit?”

LeFou pursed his lips. “I do. Believe me, I do. But I also don’t, you know?” You nodded. “I don’t even know if we’re still friends after what happened.”

“You could always wait a few days.” You chose your next words with care, not wanting to offend him. “It would give you a chance to work out how you feel towards him. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to love someone who used and abandoned you like that.” You placed a hesitant hand on LeFou’s shoulder. “You have time.”

“Do I? How long will he be there?”

“I have no clue. Like I said, it was an impulsive decision, and I’m beginning to see how much I didn’t think this through.”

“Fair enough.”

You returned to the castle feeling much better than you had when you’d left. Being busy all day had done wonders for your mentality, and the added benefit of LeFou knowing the truth about Gaston had alleviated a vast chunk of your guilt. You hadn’t expected him to be as sweet as he was, and while that made you more angry at Gaston for how he’d treated LeFou, you also had realized that LeFou was tough underneath his nice exterior. The two of you had talked for quite some time about how to evaluate the villagers’ potential reactions to Gaston being alive. You’d also spent some time catching up with Maurice, but that had been much more brief as suppertime approached. You’d finally told the older man farewell with a hug. When you’d stepped up onto your horse, you’d been surprised by LeFou bringing you a giant satchel filled with some of Gaston’s clothing. You weren’t sure if you were going to give them to him yet, but it was considerate of his loyal friend to give them to you.

You hadn’t realized how much you wanted to see Gaston until you reached the castle. You smiled at the servants as you ran into the dining room, this time grabbing enough food for the both of you so you could eat with him instead of having to wait any longer.

“Well, look who’s back,” came Gaston’s cheerful voice as you reached the top of the stairs.

You rolled your eyes, although you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it. “Did you miss me?” you asked as you reached the cell door. He jumped up and approached you as you pulled the lever while balancing the full tray on your arm. Once the door was open, he repeated his action of taking the tray from you, which brought a smile to your face. How gentlemanly of him, you thought. You noticed that his ponytail had been retied, though it wasn’t as styled as usual, so now he looked more like his old self instead of a prisoner.

“Why? Did you miss me?” he asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

You made a face at his words, even though they were true. “Not at all,” you lied. “Did Belle come up?”

“Oh, yes. She brought me lunch, and we spent some time talking. She wasn’t quite so focused on my crimes as she was yesterday.” He eyed the tray. “Are you planning on joining me this time? There’s more food than usual.”

You couldn’t confirm vocally because that would indicate that you did indeed miss him, so instead you grabbed a bowl and leaned against the wall. “Did you enjoy your conversation?” you asked, trying to keep the subject on Belle.

Gaston grinned, showing all of his perfect teeth. You gave a mental swoon at the sight. “I always enjoy conversations with gorgeous women.”

Something about the way he said that sent a small surge of jealousy into your chest. You felt bad about it, knowing that it was caused by his obvious feelings for your best friend who didn’t reciprocate, but the jealousy was still there.

It must’ve shown in your face because his grin dimmed slightly. “What?” he asked, sounding unsure at your reaction. You didn’t answer. His next comment only added to your frustration: “I meant that as a compliment!”

You tried not to give him any proof of your feelings, instead raising the bowl to your lips and slurping some of the soup. As usual, he didn’t take the hint.

“Are you jealous of Belle?”

Damn, that was perceptive of him. You felt your face heat up, which was furthered when Gaston laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but it hurt nonetheless.

“You are, aren’t you? You’re jealous.” He sauntered over to you and gave you a playful punch to your shoulder. “Admit it, (Y/N).”

You scoffed, and he poked you. “I’m not jealous. Of course you would assume that,” you denied, sliding down the wall. He followed suit, still holding the tray. His shoulder brushed against yours when he reached the ground, pushing you a little. Automatically, you pushed back with your shoulder, careful not to spill your soup. “I’m just hungry. And possibly a little concerned that once again, you’ve made this all about you.”

He blew a tuft of air out of his nose in mock disdain and set the tray down. “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

You slurped some more of your soup and waited patiently until he’d picked up his bowl and started eating. Then, with a smirk, you continued. “Did too.”

Gaston, not expecting your comment, made a choking sound and nearly dropped his bowl. “Mon dieu, woman, you’re stubborn!” he exclaimed, wiping his chin and glaring at you.

You shrugged in what you hoped was a coy manner. “It’s not my fault you assumed you’d won just because I stopped. You should know better by now.” You lifted your bowl to your lips. “Besides, out of the two of us, you’re clearly the more stubborn one.”

Gaston huffed. “I’m not stubborn. I’m determined. I refuse to give up until I’ve won. If anyone’s stubborn, it’s you, (Y/N).”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. I’ll admit it if you do.” His eyes narrowed, but he was smiling, so you continued. “I’m stubborn. Your turn.”

He laughed. “Well, I am a man of honor, so I’ll admit that perhaps I have times when I’m stubborn.” He turned his body to better see you, brushing your shoulder again in the process. “Now, I believe you have an entertaining tale to tell me.”

You frowned. What is he talking about? you wondered. It’s not like he would know about what happened in town today…

“Did you inquire about whether Villenueve was attacked?” He grinned, radiating that familiar cockiness you so loved.

Oh. That. You cleared your throat in an attempt to buy time. His grin grew wider, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And to be honest, he probably did. “I did,” you admitted, feeling your blush creep further up your cheeks.

“And?”

Is this what a bird in a cage feels like when a cat is watching it? “And…there was mention of a young man who rallied everyone against some invaders…”

“Did you happen to learn this dashing young lad’s name?” He took a bite of bread while he waited for your answer.

You muttered his name in as unintelligible a manner as you could.

“I’m sorry, what was that name again?”

You sighed, knowing the game was up and that he’d won. “Gaston,” you repeated louder.

Somehow, his grin grew more. “Again, please?” he purred, leaning in.

“Gaston!” you said, this time loud enough that he couldn’t feign deafness as a way of getting you to repeat it. Your cheeks were on fire, the warmth making its way down your neck as well.

He leaned back with that aggravatingly attractive smirk on his face. “I believe that earns me a story from you,” he said, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms over his stomach.

“It’s not that interesting, I promise you.”

“Don’t care. I still want to hear it.” He rested his head against the wall, green eyes glittering with triumph.

You sighed again and turned to face him, setting the bowl down next to you. “Fine.” You leaned against your part of the wall. “I was sixteen, and we were attending mass. I stumbled against a loose stone and grabbed onto the nearest object to stable myself. Unfortunately, that object ended up being a candelabra, which is not stable in any way, and it fell over.” You felt the corners of your mouth curve up as you relieved the memory. “It caught a tablecloth on fire before one of the altar boys rushed over to stomp it out. I thought my papa was going to kill me when we got home.” Your eyes drifted to the stones in the wall across from you, though you could still clearly see Gaston out of your peripheral. “He wasn’t happy, but when Mama started laughing about it, he did, too, and I didn’t get in trouble.”

Gaston shifted, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She always brings out the laughter in him. I don’t know how she does it, but Mama just makes everyone smile. Papa is very serious most of the time, then she’ll say something absolutely ridiculous and he smiles and it’s wonderful.” Your eyes wandered to the floor. “She taught me to read, you know. Papa wasn’t overly fond of it, but he didn’t oppose it, which I suppose I should be grateful for. He did oppose me moving here by myself, but Mama managed to convince him that I would be fine.”

“You moved here shortly after Belle and Maurice did,” Gaston said, pulling you from your reverie.

You looked at him and nodded. “Yes.” Suddenly, you were curious. “And where did the great Gaston come from?”

He gave you an odd look. “Why, Villenueve, of course.”

You sensed some hesitation from him, but you decided to press on. “And your family?”

He didn’t respond right away, which made you wonder if you were being too nosy. Finally, he shrugged. “I never knew my mother—she died giving birth to me. As for my father…well…” You thought he wasn’t going to finish, but after another moment, he continued. “My father was a hunter.”

“Is he the one who taught you how to hunt?”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Yes. He taught me everything I know.”

You thought back to all the times you’d heard someone compliment Gaston’s hunting prowess. “He must be a great hunter, then.”

Gaston sneered. “He was a great hunter. I’m better.”

From his tone, you got the sense that things between Gaston and his father had been tense. I wonder why. “‘Was’? Does that mean he’s dead?”

“He died while I was fighting in the War.”

“I’m sorry.”

He scoffed. “Don’t be. There was no love lost between us.”

You frowned, not sure how to react to that statement. Of course, you knew that not everyone has a happy relationship with their parents, but you’d never experienced it firsthand. You knew that your father loved you, and he wanted what he thought was best for you. The same went for Maurice—he and Belle were a close family, one you’d been fortunate to be allowed into. For someone to not experience that with either of their parents was disturbing.

“What?” Gaston asked, shifting and catching your attention.

You shook your head. “What?”

“You’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes.” His mouth twitched. “That’s a dangerous pastime, you know.”

The seriousness broken, you shook your head. “Oh, shut it.” But you were smiling again.

“Dare I ask what you were thinking about?”

You shrugged. “Just about how different families can be.” Suddenly, you remembered the letter from your parents. I almost forgot about that!

“Forgot about what?”

Did I say that out loud? Whoops. “I received a letter from my parents, but I never read it. I’ll read it later, I guess.”

“That’s…nice.” Gaston grabbed a clump of grapes from the tray and began to toss them into his mouth. This time he managed to catch every single one with ease.

You watched him toss three grapes and catch them before blurting, “I saw LeFou today.”

“Oh?” If you’d thought that would throw Gaston’s grape-catching abilities off, you’d been mistaken. “How is he?”

“Do you actually care or are you just asking because it’s what people expect?” You would rather not get into another argument about his treatment of his friend, but you had to know.

Gaston caught the next grape in his hand. “Why must you do that?” he asked, his voice a mixture of whiny and frustrated.

You felt your forehead furrow in confusion at his question. “Do what?”

He threw the grape from hand to hand. “Make it sound like I’m heartless and selfish.”

Maybe because you are heartless and selfish? You almost replied, but held your tongue.

“I’m not. You may think it, Belle may think it, hell, even LeFou may think it now, but I’m not.” He scowled, pausing in his grape-throwing. “I did what I had to do. Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.”

You pursed your lips. “You didn’t have to do it, though. Why didn’t you help him and then go after the Beast?”

His arm suddenly drew back to throw the grape. You flinched, half expecting him to throw it at you in anger. He didn’t, instead throwing it out the open door of his cell. “Why does it matter?” he growled the last word. “I did what I did! Why must we keep going around in circles talking about it?”

“Because I’m trying to get you to see how wrong you were!” you snapped back, your own temper flaring. “It doesn’t matter if you thought it was the right thing to do! You don’t seem to understand how it’s affected the people around you. LeFou was heartbroken over your betrayal! You killed the Prince, which hurt my friend! Not to mention you led a town in an attack against the people they love and care about who were cursed—nevermind that they’d forgotten about them and that they were random items at that point!” You leaned forward, staring him down, hoping desperately that maybe something you’d say would actually get through that thick skull of his. “You did it, and you did it for selfish reasons, and until you realize that, yes, I’m going to keep questioning your motives and calling you out on them.” His eyes, lit with fury, glared into yours. “So maybe you should actually take the time to think about the consequences of your actions instead of trying to justify them!”

His jaw clenched. He lifted one arm to indicate the cell. “Do you honestly think I haven’t thought about that, (Y/N)? I’m locked up—already damned for my actions. The Prince could have me executed at any time, something that I’m well aware of!”

His words were like ice to your heated emotions. Before they could cool you down completely, though, you yelled your reply: “But he won’t!”

Gaston scoffed. “And how do you know that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I asked him¸ you idiot!”

Silence fell upon both of you at your declaration. You crossed your arms, mirroring Gaston, allowing your anger to simmer off. You were still glaring at him, daring him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there, radiating his own anger.

As one minute passed, then two minutes, then five minutes passed in that tense silence, you felt yourself cooling down. He thought he was going to be killed any day. It hadn’t occurred to you to tell him that he wouldn’t be; once Adam had reassured you, you had let it vanish from your mind. Yet here Gaston had been for four days, each day wondering if you were bringing him his last meal. His flirtatious attitude had been a façade hiding his true fear.

So then why does he insist on acting like he doesn’t regret anything? Why does he keep up the narcissistic attitude?

Eventually, his jaw released and he exhaled deeply.

“I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be worried about that.” On impulse, you reached forward and put a hand on his calf. You hoped it came across as reassuring. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked to your hand and back to your face. You couldn’t read the emotions on his face; he kept it schooled. But then he sighed again, and you felt his entire body relax. “Why did you ask him in the first place?” he asked.

Because I didn’t want to watch you die again. “Because I wanted to know what would happen to you,” you admitted softly.

“Why?”

“Because, Gaston, I don’t think you deserve to die just because you made a few bad choices.” You released his calf and stood. He was watching you, a funny look on his face, but he didn’t seem like he had anything more to say. You brushed off your skirt. “LeFou is okay, by the way. I told him you were alive and that he could visit if he wanted, when he’s ready.” You began to make your way to the door. “He’s happy you’re alive.”

As you passed Gaston, his hand reached up to grab your wrist. He gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Though he didn’t say anything, you felt as if he was trying to convey some sort of apology and thanks to you by that one touch.

You got to the door and closed it behind you. With a final look at the man in the cell, you added, “For the record, I’m happy you’re alive, too.”

“That makes three of us, I guess,” he muttered. You felt your mouth twitch.

“Good night, Gaston.”

“Good night, (Y/N).”

Next Chapter

[spideychelle-romanogers]

Don’t Have To Explain It

Making of Michelle Jones - Prologue, Chapter 4

Start from the beginning || Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

After catching Michelle stealing jewels, the new mystery she brings into Peter's life defines his next adventure. There are new dangers coming to NYC and Michelle is playing a bigger part in Spider-Man's mission than Peter ever imagined.

Chapter 4: Michelle surprises Spider-Man with sorely needed information.

T/W: none  Beta: Splendid_Splendont  Tags: spideychelle, pan!Peter, demi!Michelle, slow burn

After taking another swing in the gut, Peter had to call for a break. Limply hugging the floor, he wheezed for air as Tony approached him. They had been sparring for about half an hour, Peter having to fight Tony without his suit.

"This is sad," Tony noted.

"This is crazy!" Peter didn't want to complain but after a week of this, he'd had enough. He knew he was in training but Tony went very hard on him whenever they practiced. "When is our training going to stop kicking me in the ass?"

"You're right. We should cancel all of this. Just skip training altogether. You go back to school, I go back to doing anything but this-"

"Okay, okay," Peter got up slowly, having to pick himself completely off the ground like a sticky piece of gum. Every part of him was aching. He pulled his arms back up.

"I'm proud of you kid," Tony said mostly sarcastic before swinging again. He'd barely hit Peter before he collapsed. "Okay, I'm calling it. Take the next few days off. Keep practicing. Come back when you're ready." Peter stared after him, pathetically trying to get up and failing.

"Let me get back to street watch."

"You're at about saving cats from trees level."

"I can do more with the suit."

"You are only worth what you can do without the suit. Give it a few weeks, kid."

A few days later, Peter had yet to hear back from Tony. He knew why he was being ignored. Somewhere during the break, he'd gone on to stop a few in-progress robberies on the local banks in his area. There was a system for figuring out when each of them was going to get hit, but he didn't really know what it was. Whatever the formula was for the timing, the police definitely had it pinned down so as long as he followed them, he'd always end up at the right place at the right time.

However, this led to him getting a lot of attention in the media and nearly getting caught twice. Every day the headline would feature Spider-Man, with pictures of the criminals that were caught. Peter was going to try and read some of the articles but he heard Michelle approaching him and had to shut down his tablet.

Getting through class was no big issue. She was generally occupied with her own thoughts. She seemed really fidgety, looking at anyone but Peter. Michelle asked him to be the one to get the book when the teacher called for them to pick up texts at the front of the class. He didn't think it would cause any issue, but raising his arms to get the book and then carrying it over was enough to keep him wincing the entire time. Michelle made eye contact with him, and waited as if she was expecting an answer. He didn't know what to say.

"Are you okay?" Michelle prompted.

"Why?"

"You can barely move without groaning and that textbook is only like two pounds but you look like you're getting your teeth pulled."

"I, uh, I fell down some stairs." The expression on her face was hard to read. She leaned in and lowered her voice:

"Is this Flash again?" Peter didn't think anyone knew about that.

"No! I told you."

"Right. Okay. Stairs." Michelle raised her hands in defeat. After a brief silence, she opened the textbook and continued. "What's the deal with you two anyway?"

"Just drop it already," Peter quipped back quietly. She didn't say too much after that and Peter regretted his words. He was starting to think that it was concern in her tone and he quite liked that feeling. He wanted them to be friends. It was hard to get on terms with this decision he had and Peter wished he knew more about the situation. Michelle wasn't one to open up but it was finally hitting Peter that she had to have a good reason for what she did.

He acted on an impulse as Michelle began drawing on her notebook. "How's your dad?"  She stopped.

"Why?"

"I just don't think I've asked in a while."

"He's fine." She met his eyes, looking serious.

"I haven't seen him-"

"Just drop it already," She echoed. Peter nodded, realizing that reply was only fair. She started tapping her foot again, and it wasn't until he realized that she had stopped at any point that he realized she had been doing that all of class.

“Are you okay?” He asked after a minute.

“Just nervous.” Peter never met her again the next day. He had asked her to go to the roof of the library. It had been a week since he promised to meet her and he hadn't contacted her since as Spider-Man. He just didn't have an idea or a decision on how to handle the theft. It didn't feel right to let it go all together but the only way to keep Michelle around long enough to understand what was wrong was to postpone the decision.

Peter tried to dash to his room and get his suit but Aunt May stopped him at the door as he was on his way out. She was trying to get into the apartment with all of her grocery bags. He put down his backpack and instantly took one of the boxes out of her hands.

"Peter! Where are you off to?" She asked curiously. He was honestly just startled to see her. It was too early for her to be out of work. "And don't say work. Today is your day off." It was so uncharacteristic of her to be keeping track of him, Peter didn't even know what to tell her.

"I just got here. I'm just going to go up and study. Big exam tomorrow."

"Oh." Her demeanor changed completely. "I'm sorry. I've just been worried about you. You've been at your internship so many hours each day."

"Don't worry," He shrugged, "It's fine." He went to help her quickly with the grocery bags. He started unpacking as soon as they finished bringing them in.

"You seem tired all the time. I just don't want this to hurt your grades or run you down."

"It won't." For the first time, Peter really worried about his schoolwork. Parent-teacher conferences were coming up and Aunt May was a huge stickler about school, worse than Tony. If his grades went down at all, he knew she'd force him to quit the 'internship'. If only she knew how much it meant to him. There was no other excuse he could have for being at Tony's so often. Peter knew this was one of the least of his problems but it did add to his worry.

Finally running out, he had to sneak out the window to get to Michelle. It wasn't that great an inconvenience, he just felt bad for lying to his aunt. It was one thing to keep secrets but he knew there was a chance she'd come and check on him. It'd look like he ran away to defy her or something and he didn't like the idea of that. He did his best to spare his aunt any grief.

Michelle looked so upset to see him when he called her into the alley as Spider-man. She had been heading to the library, as always. If there was one thing Peter could appreciate it was that at least her schedule was predictable, even if she wasn't.

"What's wrong?"

"You made me go up on that rooftop for nothing." She looked so much angrier about this than was reasonable. He couldn't even tell where it was coming from.

"I know. I'm sorry. I had to cancel. You might have heard, I've been busy."

"Yeah, it's all over the news. "

"Can we go up and talk about this?"

"I don't want to go up there." He really couldn't see why she was being so difficult.

"Fine, pick a rooftop, any rooftop."

"You're missing the point. I hate tall buildings."

"Like you're afraid of heights?" he asked, confused.

"Shut up." It seemed like a quip at him for figuring it out. Michelle turned and was suddenly staring at the street like she had seen a ghost.

Fear of heights. That made a lot of sense. Peter thought about how angry she was about getting picked up and taken to the rooftops. She hated getting picked up. It wasn't about him, it was about the altitude.

"Can-" Peter immediately forgot what he was going to ask when he followed her eye line.

It was Flash Thompson. Staring at them. About to reach for his phone.

Peter didn't even know what to do, he just immediately flew himself to another rooftop to get away. By instinct, he supposed, he grabbed Michelle too. When they reached the roof of the café across the street, she was out of breath and clearly uncomfortable. He winced. He couldn't even tell what was worse, the fact that Flash saw them or that he just brought her to a rooftop seconds after being told that she was afraid.

"Sorry, it's a habit."

"Please get me down, I want to go home." Though she didn't sound scared, her tone was empty. It seemed more like a request than a demand. He nodded and took her down to the sidewalk, without a word about it. She shut her eyes the entire time.

The next day at school, Peter immediately searched for Michelle the moment he walked through the doors. As soon as he saw Flash by Michelle's locker, he turned back around the corner to watch from afar. Michelle got to her locker, and was clearly trying to ignore him. Peter had to be relieved that Michelle was willing to keep a secret. She wasn't really answering his questions.

"But you have to admit his voice sounds familiar!" He heard after a few minutes. He didn't like to see Flash raising his voice at Michelle but it at least meant he'd be able to hear them.

"Thompson. It was the first time I met him. I don't know who he is or what he wanted."

"Just hear me out-" Peter came out from behind the corner, trying to look casual. "Hey Michelle." He never really visited her outside of class and lunch, but she wasn't surprised when he approached. Peter would just do anything to get Flash to go away. "What are you two talking about?" He could already feel the 'none of your business' coming, but Flash piped in instead.

"Parker."

"Thompson."

Michelle had been about to answer when she noticed the tension between them. "Okay. I need to get to class." She pushed past them and walked, not turning back even as they both stared after her.

The fact that Flash recognized Spider-Man's voice concerned Peter. Had Michelle picked up on that too? Maybe she knew who he was by now. He planned on inquiring about that during their class together but she never showed. She was marked absent and he couldn't really think of a good reason why. He took to reading the news on his tablet as he waited for her. After a few minutes, the class went on to start their lab project for the day. Peter worked alone when someone joined him. Looking up, he startled when he saw it was Liz. "H-Hi."

She chuckled. "I don't have a partner. Can we work together?"

"Yea-Y-Yes. Yes. That's-" He cut himself off when she started giggling. "That's fine." Peter understood in this moment the irony of how he was this training to be a superhero but talking to his crush was enough to make him forget how to speak English. She didn't seem to mind. He just hoped he wasn't blushing.

As they worked, Peter did his best not to stare. Focusing on the project kept him from saying anything stupid, but Liz seemed very interested in talking about anything but the project. That wasn't surprising, considering whenever he looked to her during the class he could tell she wasn't getting much done. Liz was more of a social person, she liked to talk too much to be able to focus during her projects.

Okay, maybe it was a little weird that he'd noticed that. Did that mean he stared too much? Was Michelle right about that?

Liz talked most of the time though so he never had to say anything. Suddenly Liz was saying goodbye and he realized that the class had actually ended minutes ago. He packed up quickly, realizing he was going to be late to class. Before he could walk out, he saw Michelle sitting at the desk closest to the door.

"Wait, you were here?"

"Came in late."

"Why didn't you come sit with me?"

"Liz was there. There was no way I was getting in the middle of that." She looked amused, like there was a joke he was missing.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She laughed and stared at him for a minute. "Oh, you're serious." She didn't even bother explaining. Peter stood there and waited and she just didn't answer him. "Never mind." Peter wanted to get more out of her, but he knew better. Michelle was never one for straight answers.

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

"My next class is here. And that's still none of your business," She noted. At this rate, he was starting to get used to that answer. It never seemed to be related to her wanting to offend him. If she wanted to offend him, he'd know. He knew her well enough to start recognizing those patterns at least.

"Where were you?"

"Flash Thompson. He's been really needy today." She shrugged.

"What does he want?"

"I don't know. He's always trying to copy my homework. Doesn't take no for an answer." She was such a convincing liar. Peter didn't like the chill it gave him. If he didn't know the truth, he'd have no real chance of catching her. "Thanks for interfering before."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you around the corner. Thanks for butting in." Peter had to soak in the fact that this was probably the nicest conversation they'd had in awhile. "You're going to be late to class," She warned him, nodding at the clock.

Peter smiled. "That's none of your business."

Michelle actually laughed.

"You want what?" Tony asked, as though begging Peter to say that he misheard. Peter was in the middle of training, now sparring with a coach specializing in some form of combat that Peter couldn't pronounce or spell, but it involved sticks and reaction time. Tony was wandering around their stage, working on a diagnostic for Peter's suit.

This was so much more time investment on his part than Peter had expected. He had lowered his expectations after they talked about retiring Spider-Man. Peter still couldn't figure out why Stark was so available to him when he clearly didn't want Peter around.

"One of my classmates is convinced I sound like Spider-Man," He lied. It was an embellishment of the truth at worst. If Tony taught him one thing it was that lies that get results are worth the trouble. "If there was just a way to slightly change my voice through the mask, I'd be able to cover my bases." He was heaving his breath by now, exhausted from sparring.

Tony considered it. "One of these days, you'll have to start telling me the truth." Peter sighed. "Lucky for you, this sounds like a fun challenge. I've never had to use voice distortion in any of my projects before."

"Well, yeah," Peter noted as if it was obvious. Tony stared at him. "You always want people to know that it's you." Tony smiled.

"That's true. I'll do it. Speaking of covering your bases, would you like to tell me why you've been actively ignoring my instructions?" Peter picked himself up off the ground. "Do you think I don't read the news?"

"It's a long story."

"Uh-huh. You've got to be more careful. Remember you're still working out of your house. Anyone could be following you and you're not exactly equipped to go public." Peter had expected him to make threats or try to convince him to stop pursuing this case.

"That's it? Seriously?"

"I'd say 'don't go' but you don't exactly listen." The instructor switched tactics. With one swing sweeping across the floor, Peter fell to the ground with a loud groan. Tony seemed pleased. "You are getting better!"

"Really? Because it feels like you're just paying people to beat me up."

"Can't blame me for trying. Maybe then you'll listen."

Spider-Man met Michelle at the entrance to her house. She startled when she saw him on her porch. "I feel like we're both getting tired of me stalking you," He started.

"Yup."

"So why don't you just tell me?"

"It is non-"

"It is my business." It was a full minute before she finally spoke up.

"Anywhere but here. That kid that saw us goes to my school! He's been following me all day."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I wouldn't wish that on anybody."

"What?"

"I just meant, he just seemed annoying. When I saw him." She stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing. You just make a lot of judgments at face value."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Can we meet anywhere we won't get caught?...And don't say a rooftop." Peter shrugged. She sighed out, disappointed. "I know a place but you can't tell anyone."

"Is this wall ever going to end?" Peter asked, uncomfortable. He and Michelle were wedged in so tightly Peter didn't even think he could breathe too deeply. There had been a rough staircase covered with caution tape at the opening. He knew ahead of time that this was going to less than comfortable. After dodging that tape, she pulled him into a tiny ridge in between two other walls, filled with scraps of metal and long steel bars.

There was a bigger tunnel to slip through, a spacious one, but she told him to join her in this suffocating hole instead. Peter felt like the walls could crush him at any second. He'd seen a number of spiderwebs and even Michelle seemed surprised at the difficulty. She had told him she hadn't been there since she was much smaller, but he didn't know she meant THIS small.

"This is the shorter way, trust me. The other way is blocked off. They didn't think anyone could fit this way so there's nothing to stop us." Michelle pulled out of the hole and ducked under through a gaping hole in the wall.

Peter had no idea what to expect, but when he pulled through the hole, he was stunned to see the full tunnel. It was so spacious. The many levels separated the space, each step being about two feet taller than the next. The lowest level seemed like it had been paved in a specific pattern.

"Subway tracks," he observed. She nodded.

"My brother and I found this when we were just kids. We'd bring things here. We were obsessed with this show where the kids had some magic tree house or bus or something and they'd travel through time. We'd pretend this was our lair. It was a long time ago. I figured it had to still be here I just wasn't sure. It looks exactly the same."

"What is this place?"

"We never really figured that out. If it was a subway platform, no one ever finished it. I've seen some people come every once in a while to tape it off or add more signs but that's it."

"What happened to your brother?" He asked suddenly. Michelle clammed up instantly.

"Why do you care so much?"

"I'm trying to find reasons to let you go, but you're not giving me a reason."

"I'm not exactly a sharing person."

"Just tell me why you did it and I'll leave you alone." It was a full minute until she spoke up again.

"My dad got injured a year ago at work. He can't walk anymore." She seemed to be debating with herself what to say. "We've been living off his disability checks and with my brother not around anymore, it's been sort of difficult to keep things going. His treatment is getting more expensive. The doctors think that some kind of surgery might fix it. But we can't really afford it. He's getting desperate."

"Desperate how?"

"There's this company looking for test subjects for some trial. He wants to sign up since it'd mean someone else would be paying for the treatment."

"That's good."

"I don't like the idea of my dad being someone's guinea pig. I know stealing seems drastic but he's all I've got. Turn me in if you want but I'm not giving them back. I don't want him to do something he'll regret. He's not thinking clearly."

Peter stayed quiet for a long time. He was trying to figure out what he could do. It would be wrong to let this go. He couldn't just start making exceptions. At the end of the day, whoever owned that store was going to pay for the fact that Michelle stole. The property wasn't Peter's to give away, even if he stopped the other thieves. Michelle didn't have the money or means to pay it off and neither did he.

"Use the money," He said finally, knowing that that was the one part of his answer that he knew for sure. "We need to find a way for you to pay it off."

"Pay it off? Like what?"

"I don't know yet."

"Don't you have your hands full with the Kerrig robberies?"

"The what?"

"The bank robbers."

"Kerrig?"

"All of the banks they've hit so far use Kerrig safes. They have some universal key or something. It was a flaw in their repairing model."

"How do you know that?"

"I did some digging."

"Why?"

"I don't know this is just something I do. Benny says he knows a guy who was bragging about it at the bar a few years ago. He disappeared off the map or something, no one knew where he went." Peter had an idea but he held back, knowing it'd only make things more complicated.

If Michelle could prove useful to his work, he could possibly find a way to pay back the jewels. Surely there was a criminal or two they could lift money off of. Maybe it wouldn't be right but if they were going to jail anyway surely it didn't matter. Michelle pulled him out of his thoughts suddenly. "It's really weird talking to a mask. That eye thing is creepy-"

"Meet me here tomorrow." Peter immediately ducked under the hole and started making his way through the thin wall again. Michelle didn’t even get to answer but it was probably better that way. He already knew she'd try to refuse.

A/N: This chapter has been posted in Michelle's POV (for that guest who requested it).

Get on the Tag List |  Updates | My Masterlist | Next Chapter

[starsofshadowanddust]

Bookish Tag Questions!

AW YEAH! BOOK STUFF!

Tagged by the astonishing @acfawkes!

1. Which book has been on your shelves the longest?

If it is a book I purposefully bought, then probably Sandry’s Story by Tamora Pierce but on shelves in general then probably Diana of the Crossroads.

2. What is your current read, your last read, and the book you’ll read next?

so i actually just finished a book titled Knit One Girl Two by Shira Glassman AND IT WAS AMAZING! The book before that was The Antagonists by Burgandi Rakoska which was also terrific! The next book on my list is The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge because I was flipping through my netflix and had a sudden realization that secret of moonacre was based on a book and i love my fantasy - cheesy and otherwise. 

3. What book does everyone like and you hated?

oh god there are actually a lot of these.... confession I have never made it through the Harry Potter series (yes, I know, I’m a terrible human BUT I GAVE IT AN HONEST TRY). I really hated slave, warrior, queen as I found that the lead was very strong willed and then ended up very passive and submissive at the end which was disappointing. I tried the winners curse series and didn’t really like it. imma leave it at that...

4. Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t?

ummmm on my digital shelf, there are a lot of books there that I probably won’t get to. On my actual shelf... I’ve actually read everything on there sooo... Im actually pretty spontaneous in my reading...

5. Which book are you saving for “retirement”?

shakespeare marathon and working my way up to Dragonbone Chair. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up writing my own stories in my head during retirement cause I won’t be able to use my hands or hear an audiobook! 

6. Last page: read it first or wait til the end?

Depends on the book, but in most cases I’ll wait till the end! The only times I will check the ending is if I am reading with someone else and am keeping an eye out for triggers.

7. Acknowledgements: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside?

I actually love reading the acknowledgements and all the other weird little things before and after the book! Getting to know the author can change the way you see a book which I find fascinating! :)

8. Which book character would you switch places with?

Thianna Frostborn. Not only is she amazingly sarcastic and smart, she is half frost giant which would be SO MUCH FUN!!!! The adventures she ends up on are so much fun and only have minor physical damage!

9. Do you have a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)?

I actually have a lot of these! The first one that comes to mind is Arrows of the Queen by Mercedes Lackey which is one of the first fantasy books I read that are closer to the adult than young adult realm (see book three chapter 8) and this book was passed down to me from my mom who read it around the same age. It was one of the first books that I accidentally “missed” class in and its always been a comfort for me.

10. Name a book you acquired in some interesting way.

 I got the book Wait Till Helen Comes from my elementary school librarian (who has unfortunately passed away and im still sad about that) who taught me how the right book can change your view on life and on reading. All of us library helpers got to choose a book and this was the first time someone gave me a book that wasn’t a family member. Only problem was that during the creepy ghost scene my black cat was in my very dark room and knocked over my stack of books the same time the ghost knocked over a stack of books in the book... needless to say, its not a book I read much now!

... also, I “borrowed” my dad’s copy of Death in Yellowstone when I was 7/8... I wasn’t supposed to read it but it remains one of my favorites.

11. Have you ever given away a book for a special reason to a special someone?

nope. I’m very possessive of my books. any books that have left my possession were either loaned, or I traded, or I got money for. I like books...

12. Which book has been with you to the most places?

Probably Death in Yellowstone as it came with us on our trip back home from yellowstone... besides that, I travel mostly with ebooks as you can store more in less space!

13. Any “required reading” you hated in high school that wasn’t so bad ten years later?

I no longer have a grudge against The Odyssey which is probably because the second read through wasn’t forced into two weeks with really detailed quizzes that killed my grade. All other books that I hated, I still have. peace like a river can still go burn in a hole (I have a poem about this book if anyone wants) and stargirl was a very terrible book. I DETEST it.

14. What is the strangest item you’ve ever found in a book?

well I worked at the school library first period so I’ve seen quite a few things. There have been several bathroom passes, a couple photographs, a crap ton of phone numbers... There was a book about teen pregnancy found in the girls bathroom and that was pretty awkward. Strange, however, not really. 

15. Used or brand new?

both! If I really like a book, I will buy a new copy but for anything else I love used because it makes sitting in a corner like a creepy person less lonely because the previous reader probably did too!

16. Stephen King: Literary genius or opiate of the masses?

While I haven’t personally read any King, I know for a fact that they aren’t checked out all that much at the high school level at a high school library. I would say that like any author, if the reader gets through it and enjoyed it - that author is a genius.

17. Have you ever seen a movie you liked better than the book?

well the Harry Potter series but that is just because i could never make it through (which is really annoying but not annoying enough for me to force my way through the books) but besides that, not really

18. Conversely, which book should NEVER have been introduced to celluloid?

well a lot of the YA popular series in my personal opinion. Twilight is definitely up there. There are probably a lot of terrible movies that I have watched jokingly that were originally books that I don’t know about. 

19. Have you ever read a book that’s made you hungry, cookbooks being excluded from this question?

not really... I often forget to eat and forget that oh hey! my body is hungry and I should probably eat when I’m reading. 

20. Who is the person whose book advice you’ll always take?

my old elementary librarian when he was still alive, and my mom. She is an english major/poetry minor so we don’t have a lot in common (Im going into geophysical engineering) but holy crap are her books good! and I get really excited about books and will read just about anything. I also have a problem where if I’ve started a series I really hate to not finish it so I’ve read an entire trilogy in two days because all books had to be back at the school library for summer.

Tagging: @bookishnessnessness @courtofglassandfire @beyondthestonewalls @stinti @intj-writer @swerpl @stinti @where-the-wild-dreams-grow @th3neighborhood-onparadiseway @goldkirk @observethewalrus and anyone else who wants to share their love of books!