#And while she was often the one enduring awkward stories about her being told she kinda did it to herself a bit

[morningmask27]

if I'm chattering about my friends/crush here all the time anyway, I have to admit that I have a severe aversion to philosophy after whatever the fuck happened the last year of secondary school (so the year right before university) and I have personal beef with Plato, but my crush is actually interested in that and tbh... I will not go out of my way to study it, but I would probably hang onto every word my crush would say about it and I should maybe tame my first reaction of distaste (though, the intro to philosophy class I had last year wasn't That Great either, so I don't have a lot of good experiences academically with that subject)

[thefanficmonster]

Lover

Jacksepticeye x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Cheesiness and no I’m not sorry for it

Genre: Songfic, FLUFF, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Yours and Jack’s love story told through Miss Swift’s lyrics.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for being my first official Jacksepticeye request, it means the world to me! I apologize for the long wait you’ve had to endure and I hope the fic makes up for it! Love, Vy ❤

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January

“Y/N, are those Christmas lights?!“ Your friend, who you’re on facetime with asks as you give her a tour of the apartment you and your boyfriend Sean just moved into.

“Yup!“ You answer, moving onto the other room, paying the question no mind while your friend is baffled.

“Hun, it’s January. Why are your Christmas decorations still up?“ She questions, taking a sip of her tea as you roll your eyes at her.

And this is our place, we make the rules

“New apartment, new rules.“ You explain, short and sweet before deciding to elaborate, “Ok, they just look good in the background of Sean’s videos so we opted to not take them down a little longer.“

Well, that may or may not have been the complete truth but oh whatever. I mean, what you said was true - the lights did give a nice aesthetic to Sean’s videos and accented the background of each shot. However, you happened to leave out a little detail...

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

You love the way the lights reflect in Jack’s eyes every time the other lighting in the recording room is off. The way they add a glow to him like either the misunderstood villain or the unknown hero of a story. 

You love the way they’re outshined by his smile when he notices your presence in the room. You revel in the small moments like the that. The way he’d stand up from his chair and come to where you’re standing in an attempt to be out of frame and not be captured by his camera but he’d take your hand and pull you closer, spinning you in the process, just to catch and dip you like the prodigy dancer he is.

“I just came to ask if you wanted a cup of coffee. What is with these formalities?“ You’d tease, still at the mercy of the hold of his arms, being the only thing holding you up.

He’d chuckle, “Nothing but the best for you, darling.”

Regardless if he was the hero or the villain, you’d still be his partner, whether that be in crime or in justice.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

You and Sean have known each other longer than you have been dating. You started off as awkward acquaintance, soon moved on to friends, then drinking buddies and then buddies for making out in the backseat of his car. It was the slow burn of the century and it often feels like a century in and of itself when you think back at how long it took you to act on your feelings for one another.

You believe that even if it were a century, if it all went down a hundred years ago, you’d still have it fresh and detailed in your memory. And it’d still feel like it had all flashed before your eyes at the speed of light. No amount of time spent with him was enough for you. Even a forever wouldn’t suffice.

Can I go where you go?

You remember the many times he’d travel to the US or back home in Ireland back when you were still just friends and you vividly remember the gaping hollowness that’d open up in your life while he was gone. You had no way to explain it to any of your friends because you knew full-well they’d tease the shit out of you for your crush on Sean.

Seeing him leave when you started dating wasn’t any easier either. In fact, since he had become an even bigger part of your life at that point, you  found yourself even lonelier than before. Your bed felt too big, the apartment felt too empty and quiet. 

And your days were too bland.

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

But you also remember the warm hugs and cuddles and the inseparableness when he’d return. The way you wouldn’t leave his side and he wouldn’t leave yours, insinuating that he had missed you just as much as you had missed him.

You remember waking up before him and not being able to get out of bed due to how tightly he was holding onto you even in his sleep - something he still does frequently and which can turn into a real nightmare if you need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. But man, is it worth it.

And ah, take me out, and take me home

Regardless of where the two of you would go, no matter how far away from home you’d be you’d never notice. Why? Because that apartment was and still is your secondary home - you were and still are each other’s home. 

He could make you or break you and he’d still be your home. He could make you upset, which has always been such a rarity, I’m talking once in a blue moon, and yet you’d still find the solace and comfort in his arms because he is you home.

You could piss him off or say some hurtful stuff in the heat of the moment and have him close himself off, but he can never stay away from you. He always seeks sanctuary in your embrace. Because you too are his home.

You’re my, my, my, my...Lover

He indeed is your lover. He’s the first person you’ve ever had such a strong connection to and the first person you’ve ever been so head over heels for. 

He’s the first boyfriend you’ve confidently been able to say you love.

*  *  *  *  *

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

One of the fondest memories of your relationship you’re more than certain you’ll never forget is the first time you attended VidCon with Sean. It had taken a lot of begging on his end but when you finally agreed to tag along, you immediately knew you wouldn’t regret it, seeing how happy you made him.

It was your first time in Anaheim so whenever Sean couldn’t accompany you for any activities, you’d go on an exploration adventure, enjoying the sights while also making small mental notes to avoid getting lost. It was a ton of fun, despite having to do it mostly alone and only partnered by the music coming from your earbuds as you browed the city, getting an eyeful of it all while never failing to make it to a single one of Sean’s panels as well. You’ve never been the best at managing your time, often a victim of procrastination, but when your boyfriend was in the question, you aimed to be as spot-on with your timing as possible, even making it places early from time to time which would be super out of the ordinary for you but you’d always brush it off, calling it character growth.

This on panel was no different.

You had miraculously managed to drag yourself to it after almost dropping dead of a heat stroke while out on the town. Your legs were practically jelly as you slumped in the seat Sean had reserved for you. You as well as the rest of the audience patiently waited for the panel to be put into motion but you were far busier trying to keep your eyelids open and not fall asleep in the air-conditioned room that felt like your own personal heaven.

It was a Q ‘n A panel for Sean, one he had organized based on audience interest and you were more than happy to be an active watcher of it considering you could never get enough of seeing your boyfriend blush and chuckle awkwardly as though it’s his first time on stage in front of such a big audience. Although, that only lasted the first few minutes, then he’s loosen up, cracking jokes and sharing embarrassing life stories as well as advice with his fans who were just the sweetest.

At the time, you hadn’t been introduced to them but you found that to be for the best seeing as how you could so easily blend into the crowd with your anonymity and enjoy the show without interruptions or dirty looks.

Throughout the whole thing you were half paying attention and half zoning out into battery recharging mode. However, one question - or rather two, got your ears peaking like a  puppy as your whole body seemed to readjust to pay attention to what Sean would say in response.

The question was quite simple, you’ll admit: “Are you dating anyone at the moment and, regardless of the previous question, would you introduce your romantic partner to your fanbase or would you rather keep the romance under wraps?“ - See, perfectly simple. What bothered you were the ten seconds of awkward chuckling and contemplation on Sean’s end.

You yourself didn’t know how you’d want him to respond so you were just stuck sitting there, cheeks red and head swarmed with worry. You even contemplated shutting your eyes to the ordeal but that’s when you heard it...

“I am, in fact, dating someone and they are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.“ Sean starts, voicing his thoughts without much second-guessing, “I’d be lying if I said I ever expected them to be interested in me. I spent too many years stalling on my feelings to protect myself from rejection that I was certain would smack me across the face if I dared act on my feelings but....then they said they felt the same and although they literally made me the happiest in the world in those moments and every following moment up until now, I couldn’t, at the time, get one question out of my head: ‘Why?’ Why would someone as smart, ambitious and driven as them be into someone like me. At the time I could’ve easily been considered a bum, or a scrub, if you will. But they didn’t seem to see it that way. They showed me and keep showing me what love is all about every single day and for that I’ll forever be indebted to them. Darling, I know you’re in the audience right now, you know who you are, of course, so I just wanna say one thing....and don’t feel obligated to say it back but.....I love you, Y/N.“

Only then did you realize tears were streaming down your cheeks while your lips were stretched into the biggest smile that you had partially covered by your hand as a result of the disbelief.

With every guitar scar on my hand...

Before you could think twice, you shot up from your seat...

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

“I love you too, Sean!“

[inthenameofallthingsholy]

30 DAYS IN THE HUMAN REALM WRITING CHALLENGE DAY ONE LETS GO

YES IT IS 9PM AND YES MY PHINE IS AT 6 PERCENT AND YES THIS CHAPTER MIGHT BE A PILE OF SHIT BUT HEY I TRIED TO ENJOY:

It was about 6 pm on Sunday, October 1st, and Camilla was stirring up some puchero for dinner. Vee was in her room, looking for a shirt to wear to school the next morning. 

Then came the knock at the door, and everything changed. Vee immediately walked out of her room. She could sense that something…or someone…from the Demon Realm was close by. 

She followed Camilla closely as she walked to the door. She quickly transformed into Luz as the door opened. Camilla gasped when she saw Luz, the first, non-shapeshifter Luz, staring back at her. Surrounding her were 4 other people, all with pointy ears and strange clothes. Even Luz had looked strange, with longer hair and a jacket Camilla had never seen before. All of them were scratched, bruised, or red from crying. Luz had a pained smile on, clearly trying to hide that the trauma the other kids had endured had affected her too. 

“Hey mom…I’m home!” Luz struggles to whimper out as her and all her friends’ hair got wet from the rain. She used to love the rain, and she was often called weird for playing outside on rainy days. She had gotten so used to boiling rain that she was terrified that every wet drop on her head would boil right through her skull.

Then Camila began to cry. Luz had expected that happening but she still didn’t like witnessing it. Her mother jumped out of the house into the rain and hugged her so hard they nearly fell onto the wet concrete beneath them. 

Luz held onto her for what seemed like hours, savoring in the warmth of her mom that she had not felt in months. Camilla let go after about 10 seconds of crying into Luz’s shoulder while they hugged.

“Oh, you’re soaked! Let’s get you inside before you and your friends catch a cold!” She said quickly before ushering Luz and the group inside the house, where they met Vee, still in Luz form, waiting in the kitchen. 

Immediately, Hunter, Willow, and Gus tensed up. Luz had told Amity about Vee and their adventures a few months before, but had neglected to mention the story to Gus and Willow, let alone Hunter. 

“Oh, Hunter, Willow, Gus, this is Vee! She’s a basilisk that Bel..” She stopped talking at the name. Everybody froze as they heard even the first syllable. “…he brought back from extinction.” 

Vee transformed into her real body and did an awkward (but adorable) wave at everyone. Gus and Willow replied with their own small waves, while Hunter just stared at Vee intently.  He thought about if his uncle had told him about re-creating basilisks, realizing that was yet another thing Belos had hidden from

The others went over to the kitchen table while Amity walked up to Vee, Luz being close by. 

“Hi, I’m Amity. Im Luz’s..” She looked at Luz for approval and was met with a nod and a small smile. “I’m Luz’s girlfriend.” She continued. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Vee shot a smirk at Luz. “Nice to meet you Amity. I didn’t know Luz had a gIrLfRiEnDdD!” She accentuated girlfriend and giggled to herself. Luz gave her a look of annoyance while Amity blushed and quietly walked over to the kitchen table with everyone else. 

Then Luz explained everything. Well, almost everything. She tried to leave out the parts where she had almost died multiple times. 

Around her, everyone looked solemn, eating their puchero very slowly or not at all. Gus’ knees were up to his chest, slumping down in his chair sadly as he thought about his dad back home. Willow and Hunter’s chairs were facing each other at an angle, knees touching and hands intertwined silently. 

Amity held Luz’s hand tightly as she told the story, trying to push her love through all the sadness of the surface. 

Luz also introduced Camilla to everyone one by one, trying to tell their backstories as well as they allowed her. All she mentioned for Hunter was that he was the emperor’s nephew, and that Belos lied to him about everything. She didn’t mention anything about the grimwalker situation, per his request. He hadn’t even told Willow about that yet, despite his obvious crush on her. She also explained how Vee and her had met, and how Camilla knew about the demon realm.

After all was told, Camilla brought up the sleeping arrangements for the night. 

“Well, Luz, you can stay in your old room if you want. Vee uses the bottom bunk more often, so you can sleep on top!” Camilla smiled, making Luz feel somewhat better in this situation. “We have an air mattress in the basement for everyone else, but you might have to share.” 

Luz looked around at her friends, all of them with bruised knees and spirits. 

“I’d rather stay on the air mattress with them if that’s ok.” Luz stated. “We’ve gone through a lot tonight, and I don’t want to keep Vee up if I can’t sleep.” 

Camilla silently nodded, and showed everyone the tour of the house. After teaching the Boiling Isles kids how to use the shower, (“Don’t worry, it only took me like a day to get it right.” Vee said), she gave everyone clothes to sleep in. 

Amity got one of Luz’s old anime t-shirts (much to her secret delight) and an old pair of Justice shorts. Willow was given one of Camilla’s old band  shirts from college that read  ‘Jagged Little Pill’, and the pants off of a Christmas pajama set that Camilla and Luz’s father would wear every year. 

The boys were more difficult to find clothes for, but Camilla made it work. Hunter got a band shirt that apparently belonged to Mr. Noceda in college, similar to willow’s. The shirt read ‘Nirvana’, and the male version of the pants willow was given. Gus was tough to find clothes for, but eventually was given matching blue and green dinosaur pajamas that were Luz’s older cousin’s hand-me-downs. 

After all the clothes were given out, camilla blew up the air mattress and everyone settled in for the night. 

Nobody slept of course, except for Vee and Camilla upstairs. They all clung to each other close, not daring to let go for a second. They all just laid there, reflecting over the events for the last 24 hours, and trying not to cry. Simply waiting for the morning to come, but dreading it none the less.

Welcome Home. 

[separatist-apologist]

Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

[acourtofbooksandfantasy]

Starfall - Azriel x fem! Reader

Disclaimer: this is my first piece I’ve ever published. I’m not taking requests but would be open to ideas for new things to write! Let me know what you think. I had this idea the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about it until I wrote it down. I also originally named the main fem! character but decided to make it Y/N at the last minute, so if her name is in there then whoops! Either way, enjoy xx

Starfall. The most beautiful night in Prythian. Souls traveling to a far off place, leaving a blinding beauty in their wake. The Night Court prepared for weeks to welcome their passage.

Each member of the Inner Circle enjoyed this day, but Azriel often used this day to mourn. And to hope. Each year, he would wish upon those flying glimmers of starlight. Praying. Hoping. One day, he would find his mate.

In the past, he used the evening to drink and pray and hope that Mor would realize she was his mate. But when she and Emerie confirmed their mating bond two years prior, Azriel simply used this evening to wish upon the stars for someone of his very own.

This year was not any different, until two months before when a secret Illyrian camp was raided and a young woman was found, wingless. She was battered and bruised, terrified of any male who came near her. Cassian had brought her back to the House of Wind with Feyre’s help, to give her a place to recover and rest.

Over the coming weeks, she revealed to Mor and Amren that her name was Y/N, and that she had been sold to the foul Illyrians at a high price to help support her family. She was used for work, cleaning and cooking, and kept in a small room. She revealed her wings were taken after a visit where Rhysand and Cassian required Devlon to start training all Illyrian females. As she told the story, even Amren shed a tear.

Cassian and Azriel were introduced to Y/N, along with Nesta, to help train her. Even without wings, Feyre believed it would do her much good to know how to protect herself. And Y/N vowed she would never again let someone lay hands on her unless she asked. Over the weeks, Cassian and Azriel coached from the sidelines as Nesta and Mor demonstrated and helped, since Y/N still feared the males being too close. Each day she grew a little stronger, and became more confident. It became evident just how much the training was helping her mentally when she agreed to come out for a night at Rita’s with the Inner Circle. Much to Morrigan’s delight, as she would finally have a friend to dance with who wouldn’t make inappropriate comments like Cass.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch from across the bar as Mor and Y/N jumped and spun, without a care in the world. However, he became alarmed as he noticed two dark males approaching her from behind. Each one reached to grab her arms, and he growled as he flew from his chair. He pushed the men back, scooping Y/N into his arms and winnowing both her and Mor to the back of the bar where he knew no one would be. When he put her down, Y/N stared at him breathlessly. She couldn’t believe it, but when he came out of nowhere to rescue them, she hadn’t felt fear. In fact, she felt a strange pull in her stomach. Deep, aching. Longing. Like, she had known him before, in another time perhaps.

The mating bond.

It caused her to step back as it snapped into place.

But Azriel didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“Are you alright?” He asked, gently brushing a hand to her elbow as she stood, star struck.

“Yes. I’m fine….thank you.” She replied after a few awkward seconds.

Mor gave her a puzzling look, “Uh…okay you two let’s go home. Az…”

He grabbed their hands and winnowed them back to their home.

That night, Y/N sat alone in her room, feeling a pull towards the shadowsinger’s room. She knew she should probably stay, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she went. Her curiosity got the best of her, and all of a sudden she was stood outside his bedroom. One hand ready to knock, but unsure of what she would say. She stood there nervously until the door cracked open, and Azriel popped his head out into the hall. He was only wearing some trousers, his hair disheveled from the slumber he’d just awoken from.

“ Y/N. Is there…something wrong?” He asked nervously.

“I…I…” Y/N scrambled for a reason to be in front of his door, “I sometimes have nightmares. I can’t fall asleep because I’m afraid of having a terrible dream.”

“Oh. I see.” Azriel said.

Y/N stood there, unsure of what to do next, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sor-“

But before she could finish her thought, he grabbed her wrist gently and brought her inside.

“You can stay for a little while if you’d like,” Azriel started, “I have nightmares too. About my hands. And my mother. We can watch out for each other. And I can take you back to your room when you’re ready. You take the bed, I can sleep here.” He gestures to the small couch at the foot of his bed.

“Azriel I don’t want to take your bed.” Y/N stated, feeling guilty about coming in the first place.

“I insist.” Azriel gestured to the bed.

She sat down on the edge, as he laid himself on the couch that was barely big enough for him and his enormous wings. Even with them all tucked in, he nearly spilled out the sides of the couch.

She laid down as well, waiting for slumber to set in, but it didn’t, because she could only focus on the tug from her to him.

Close to an hour had passed, when finally a whisper emerged from the quiet. “Az?” Y/N lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes?” Azriel replied timidly.

“Can you…can you come up here?” Y/N asked rather calmly.

Silence filled the room, before the tall and dark Illyrian stood from the couch, slowly setting himself down on the other side of the bed. He lay flat on his back as well, as if trying to avoid touching her at all costs.

She reached across the bed and found his hand, interlocking her fingers in his. She rubbed her thumb along the lines of his scars.

“Thank you. For rescuing me. Maybe I can help rescue you from your nightmares?” Y/N said.

Azriel smiled at the ceiling in the dark, “Perhaps.”

________________________________________

Each of the girls from the Inner Circle had gone to the seamstress weeks prior to the event to have gowns made for the celebration. Each of the girls selected a gown some shade of Night Court black, except for Y/N. Feyre and the rest of the Night Court females found a gorgeous silver silk fabric, embedded with tiny crystals. When held up to the light, the fabric twinkled like a sea of stars.

“ Y/N! Since you are our special guest for the celebration, you should have a dress made from this!” Mor shouted, shoving a pile of the fabric into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N stared, mouth wide open, “I’m not sure, I don’t want to…”

Feyre stopped her by gentle placing a hand on her shoulder. “You are not a burden, and no one will be upset if you outshine every one of us. You deserve to have a night as fabulous as you are after all you’ve endured.”

Y/N smirked and nodded. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have a dress made from this!”

________________________________________

The males waited, rather impatiently, in the front hall at the bottom of the staircase.

“You all have been getting ready since 10 o’clock this morning, you can’t SERIOUSLY still be primping can you??” Cassian grumbled as he leaned back on the wall.

Morrigan exited her room where they had all been drinking, giggling, and preparing for the evening. “You clearly have no understanding of what getting ready means to females, “ she said as she rolled her eyes at the general.

One by one, each of the girls stepped out. Feyre and Y/N were the last left inside the room. “You look lovely, Y/N. I’m so glad you’ve become one of our best friends.” Feyre gave Y/N a small squeeze. Y/N smiled, still appearing somewhat nervous for this evening.

Feyre studied her face closely, “He will think you are the most magnificent creature in the room tonight,” she whispered with a wink.

All the breath left Y/N’s lungs as she thought of the spymaster.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

Her heart pounded as Feyre gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading to the staircase. “Come along, Y/N. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

________________________________________

His breath caught in the back of his throat at the sight of her at the top of the staircase.

The floor length gown had a deep v down the front, with two sheer straps that wrapped over her shoulders and crossed in the back. The silky fabric flowed as she took each step. She shimmered like starlight, and as the shimmering fabric moved it made it as thought Y/N herself was glowing in the night.

“Holy shit.” Cassian mumbled under his breath. Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

As Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, everyone stopped what they were doing.

“Well, shall we?” Rhysand asked with a playful grin, simultaneously locking arms with his mate and nudging his spymaster brother towards the girl in the sparkling gown.

Azriel and Y/N stood for a moment. Y/N’s eyes remained focused on her feet, and Azriel watched as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. In that moment, when she looked up and locked eyes with him, he felt everything. A rushing of magic, or spirit, or something, coursed through his veins.

“Mate,” he said, so softly that only she could hear.

They remained frozen in time, stood there, taking in one another. As if their souls needed time to catch up on all the time they had been apart.

Azriel extended a hand to her, and their hands intertwined as they left the front hall. As they walked, Azriel leaned in and whispered to his mate, “You know, it might be hard to keep my hands off of you tonight.” Y/N peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. “You are quick to forget, I have not accepted the bond yet,” she replied with a smirk.

“You wound me, my love,” he stated with a look of bewilderment and shock. It took everything in him not to scoop her into his arms and winnow back to his room, to have his way with her right then and there.

________________________________________

They danced most of the night. So much so, that Cassian made several jokes about how he’d never seen his brother dance that much in their entire lives. It didn’t bother Y/N or Azriel one bit.

The couple stopped to sit and watch as the souls began to descend across the sky, traveling to wherever they belong. Azriel couldn’t help but watch his mate as she stared into the sky, absolutely enamored with her.

Y/N could feel the sting of his stare on her cheek. She turned to him, and reached across the table, her hand closed holding an object tightly inside. “I’d like to give you something,” she smiled. Azriel gave her a perplexed look, opening her hands to find a macaron.

He looked at the pastry, then his mate, and back to the pastry. “Are…are you certain?”

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.” Y/N replied confidently.

Azriel forced himself to savor every bite of the macaron, when really he wanted to shove the whole thing into his mouth so he could whisk her away from the party. Once he was finally finished, he stood, gesturing for Y/N to take his hand.

Cassian shouted from across the dance floor, “Hey brother!! Don’t be too loud tonight, SOME of us need our beauty rest!!” Nodding his head towards Rhysand. Feyre smacked him across the back of his head and Rhysand laughed. Azriel let out a low growl, but Y/N placed her hand on his lower back and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Take me home, shadowsinger.”

And they winnowed away into the night, as fast as the spirits had traveled across the midnight sky.

[qslovebot]

Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

REQUEST HERE

[writer-panda]

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 1/I will keep missing you (if you don’t stop running)

Disclaimer: I don’t own DC or Miraculous. I’m just playing with some crazy concept. 

Chapter 1 (here)  -|-  Next

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

Ladybug landed on top of the Eiffel tower with practiced grace. An agitated worry roiling in her chest about the message Chat Noir left her. The urgency was one thing, but he sounded… pained. Like the weight of the world dragged him down type pain. 

Marinette knew Chat’s home life wasn’t perfect. Skilled at hiding it, maybe, but details leaked through the cracks. An offhand comment here, a muttered accusation there, a sour face yet again here. He lived in pain and tried so hard to work through it. 

She tried to help him whenever she could, both as Ladybug and Marinette. She may not return his feelings, but she always listened. For months during their third year as heroes, she left food on the rooftop when Chat’s suit revealed too many ribs. She wasn’t sure the reason and didn’t dare to ask, lest she learned too much, but she did try to help. There were times she thought she imagined the pained looks, and thin frame, and thinly veiled comments; maybe overexaggerating the situation in her mind, as she often did. After all, he always acted so cheerfully.

Then, Lila happened. 

The first strike landed swift, almost deadly, but she survived. It was what followed that made her reconsider. A prolonged fight, where Marinette chose to retain a cheerful mask to hide the pain. Along the line, she considered confiding in her parents. But what could they do?  Maybe take her from school, but that would mean Lila already won; the Liar would rule unopposed.

Which left Adrien, her last bastion of friendship. 

She still harbored a bit of a crush on him, but it was justified! Like a knight in shining armor, he stood, always ready to defend her. He always ensured her inclusion in class activities and saved her from several catastrophes. 

She still stumbled over her words with him, but when it’s minor stuttering or not talking to anyone, she forced herself to adapt. It was nowhere near as bad as it used to be. 

With the ability to spend more time with Adrien without acting like a spaz, Kagami also appeared more often, and proved to be a good friend. Marinette found a home with the two awkward rich kids ridiculously clueless and unaware of how the real world functioned. In the end, she even grew to accept Adrien might not be destined to be hers but chose to support him nonetheless. 

“My lady?” She was broken out of her musing by a familiar voice.

“Hello, Kitty-cat. I got your message… what’s wrong?” She turned to see Cat Noir slumped over the railing, with his ears tweaking nervously. She didn’t even know he could do it. 

“I… I’m sorry my Lady, but I can’t… I can’t continue to be your partner,” he declared.

“What?!” she squeaked. “What happened? What’s the matter?” 

“I’m… I’m getting married,” he announced, his ears drooping and tail tucked between his legs.  

Oh, that’s… not what she expected to hear. “Married? Congrat…” she drifted off, noticing his sour face. “Chat? What are you not telling me?”

“It’s… I… My…” He struggled to figure out how to say it, but ultimately remained silent for a moment. “There is nothing to be happy about. It’s a… business marriage,” he spat, his eyes narrowing.  

“But… those are illegal!” Ladybug protested.

“Not when you make it look like a love match. Especially if you insinuate at a scandal.” He sneered, jumping off the railing and pacing along the empty rooftop. “My father holds all the cards and I… I’m in no position to oppose him.”

“I’m sure we can…”

He sighed, walking over to her. “Please… M’lady. Don’t try to give me hope. I accepted what I must do.” With that, he reached for the ring, but she stopped him.

“Chat. We can try… You’re my friend. You can’t… We will figure it out. Together.” In all they’d endured, suffered, and triumphed - Marinette had never seen him this despondent… this broken. 

He sighed, his eyes flat and dull. “There is nothing to figure out,” he said, forcing the ring off his finger. 

The transformation fell, leaving Adrien Agreste materialized in place of her long-time partner. Plagg’s sharp cry cut off, as he’s sucked into the ring the second he popped out of it. She stood there, too stunned to notice the blond boy pushed the ring into her palm and closed it. 

Marinette wasn’t sure what thoughts decided to rampantly rage through her head, but the train of thoughts probably broke the collective speed limit everywhere in the world at the same time. 

“M’lady?” Adrien’s soft voice brought her to earth when she was one step from panic.

“A-Adrien?” She choked on the word.

“You heard about me?” He looked dumbfounded. Ladybug, too shocked to say a word, gestured over to the building line. Even from so high and far away, his most recent billboard advertisement stood visible. “Ah… right.”

“Who… who’s the lucky girl?” Inside her mind, she wondered if Kagami right now faced a  similar problem. It was the most logical…

“Lila Rossi,” Adrien admitted, his shoulders hunching. 

Marinette.exe stopped working. 

A moment passed.

Another.

“Um… M’Lady?” The boy tried to prod his ex-partner to respond by waving his hand in front of her face.

“That… that lying…” Ladybug saw red. This could not be happening.

Adrien nodded, the despondent look on his face growing worse every second.“My father deemed her a suitable heiress to the Gabriel brand… I tried to warn him she was a liar, but he… I think he actually admires her skill…” Tears built in his eyes, and Adrien covertly tried to wipe them away. 

“Maybe… maybe you could… I don’t know!” she screamed in frustration. Marinette had several ideas about what Adrien could do, but none of them would help. 

Running away would be a problem. Leaking the story to the press would lead to his home life growing even worse. After dealing with Gabriel Agreste’s parenting, she held no illusion Adrien could win a court battle. The rich too often got away with whatever they desired. She could try to sicc Uncle Jagged on the case… or maybe Clara Nightingale… Nadia Chamack would probably love the news-breaking story, but it would all put Adrien in danger. Who knows what would happen before they could obtain results or protection against Gabriel’s extensive reach. 

Adrien sighed as if knowing exactly where her thoughts took her. Chat was no dummy, he probably scoured over his options more times than he could count. His resignation, the last resort in a long line of failed plans.  “I appreciate you trying, but I already told you I accepted it. Just… take me down, please. I… I didn’t really plan the location well…” He let out a weak chuckle. 

“Fine… I’m sorry kitty...” She grabbed hold of him and swung to the ground. Despondently she watched her best friend, her partner, walk away into the night; resigned to a life of suffering and isolation. 

There must be something she could do, she thought. She closed a gloved fist around the ring. She was Ladybug, and if she put her mind to it, there was nothing she couldn't do.  

-----------

A week later the press learned about the upcoming wedding. Adrien and Lila both left school for home-school. The press and the general public ate up the news story about star-crossed lovers that met in school and became inseparable. It didn’t help that the class kept commenting about how good they were for each other. 

Marinette resisted an urge to gag whenever she caught the sound of the vicious lies and propaganda.  She was asked for comment only once but chose to refuse. It didn’t earn her any popularity in class. Luckily, she convinced Nadia to stop a nasty side-story about her jealousy from being published. 

No closer to a plan, she despondently continued to push through her life without her friend. She, unsurprisingly, hadn’t received a single text or call. Marinette didn’t blame Adrien; his position couldn’t be easy. A month after Adrien departed from her class, Marinette convinced her parents to also home-school her. Without a single friend, the school became a burden. Of course, her reasoning to her parents leaned into her focus on her fashion business. Which wasn’t untrue. It was starting to pick up. 

The only upside to this whole debacle was near-lack of akuma attacks. It seemed Hawkmoth found a hobby. Maybe he wrote poems? 

Nah. Not his style...

Two months after the announcement  Marinette woke to surprise guests: Adrien, his father, and Lila knocked on the bakery’s doors. The bride-to-be in an especially sour mood, as much as she tried to hide it. Gabriel appeared to be devoid of any emotions, as usual.

She seated them on the couch and asked if they would like a drink. She didn’t bother to offer food, not wanting to waste good cake on the likes of Lila and Gabriel. Although, Adrien’s thin cheeks and haunted eyes made her regret the decision. 

All of them declined the drink.

“Madame Marinette, I assume you have heard of the Wedding?” The capitalization clearly discernible in his voice. 

“Yes… Yes sir!” she corrected herself. Trying desperately to mask her disgust behind a layer of nervousness. She couldn’t risk a glance at Adrien, even if this was the first time she’d seen him since that night on the roof. Making it through the meeting would be hard enough without watching him suffer.  

“While initially, I planned to prepare the dress and suit myself, my son convinced me to give a chance to someone else to shine.” Clearly, whatever it was Adrien said, it didn’t include a polite request. “I have seen the dress you made for Rock Star Jagged Stone’s wedding, as well as the suit worn by Nadia Chamack.”

“They are designs I’m particularly proud of, sir.” 

Play the part. Play the part. Don’t send him to the hospital. Papa and Maman would be disappointed. Well, Maman would probably join me… 

Her homicidal train of thought ended as she forced a smile to appear on her face. Contrary to Lila’s stretched thin lips;  Marinette’s smile shines bright and could’ve been mistaken for genuine.

“Indeed… I’ve come to commission you to design and make the gown and the suit for the sweet couple.” He announced like it was the highest honor, but there was an amount of bile in his words Marinette used to think was reserved only for Nino.

“I… I’m… I’m honored, sir!” She beamed. The excitement only half-forced. Her moral compass told her even entertaining the proposal was wrong, but at the same time, her brain furiously flitted crafting possibilities. 

Gabriel nodded imperiously as if her acceptance merely added to a foregone conclusion. “Good. My assistant, Nathalie, will sort out the details. Lex Luthor agreed to pay for the pieces as his wedding gift, so do not be afraid to ask for full price.” He informed her t as if he believed she would give him a discount. 

For a moment, a singular reckless moment, Marinette entertained the temptation to voice her thoughts about Gabriel being cheap. 

She sighed, no, there would be another day for career suicide. The group rose to leave, and Marinette finally glanced at Adrien; his model-trained smile paper-thin. He caught her eyes, and if he radiated sadness two months ago, it didn’t hold a candle to the devastation swimming in his eyes. The exchange broke when Lila gripped a hand tight around his arm and dragged him to the door. 

Gabriel handed her a card, and the group departed. Marinette collapsed onto the couch, the makings of a headache building in her skull. 

This would be awful.  

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

A week later Marinette held a separate meeting, consisting of Nathalie, Lila, Lila’s mother, and Adrien’s aunt. And her, obviously. 

She first asked what kind of dress Lila wanted.

Lila’s eyes lit up in an unholy glee; and she started talking. 

And talking. 

And talking. 

And talking. 

After the long and painstakingly thorough description, Marinette felt faint. Several reasons contributed to that, although the most prominent were the materials, the design, and the way she spoke. Obviously Lila had feelings, the kind likely to trigger an oncoming Auma attack if Hawkmoth hadn’t pranced off to who knows where, about Marinette designing her dress. 

Marinette was happy Adrien’s aunt pointed out the request’s complete madness, but Lila’s mother waved it off, quick to declare only minor adjustments to the request would be needed. 

In the end, Marinette presented several dozen designs, both hers and foreign to have a basis on which she could work. Lila, of course, chose the one that would be hardest to make.

“I’m sorry none of your designs were good, Marinette…” The liar cooed with faked sorrow. She hid a smirk the designer could clearly see. 

The notion was born because it was a picture and not a sketch. 

Marinette smirked, and rose from the couch, ignoring Lila’s irritated scowl at her non-reaction.  

She liked it even less when the girl brought in the ready-made dress. 

“I made it as the first design for Penny Rolling’s wedding, based on Uncle Jagged’s suggestions. I should’ve known Penny didn’t approve of his idea, but…” she waved it off.

Lila, now actively glaring at her, sat back on the couch. All of which was mistaken for amazement by the adults.

Marinette ignored the girl’s dramatics, it was the only way she’d survive this meeting intact. “Of course, there still needs to be several adjustments and personalizations. I will also need to order the amber you requested. And the platinum thread. And the white gold. And probably an industrial-grade 3-D printer… Is that covered by the expenses?” She looked at Nathalie, who nodded. “Great! I will need just a moment.” 

The women watched as Marinette practically leaped at her notebook and added in adjustments to the sketch. Fifteen minutes later, when she presented a new design, impressing them all (sans Lila, obviously) with the flowing lines and intricate details. They praised her talent (even Natalie), and Marinette played the bashful young designer role to a tee. The liar kept glaring though. She couldn’t back away easily, since she already made a scene about wanting that specific dress. Marinette informed them beforehand she would need to know about her specific wishes before she made any adjustments. 

The final design looked pretty much exactly what Lila wanted though, but she didn’t want to give her nemesis the satisfaction. Her entourage did enough of this. 

Under the cover of being too emotional, they ended the meeting. Nathalie remained to finish the deal and sign the contract. 

After all of them left, Marinette collapsed onto her chair. An hour later a notification from her bank came. She received the first half of the payment. When finished, the dress would officially be the most expensive wedding dress to date. Blessed be Lex Luthor and his deep pocket. She chuckled, remembering how much the billionaire got kidnapped because of his money.

Then, an idea shined in her head.

Oh. 

Oh...

She took off her earrings and dismissed Tikki, promising she needed a quick chat with Plagg about a new potential holder. When Marinette put on the ring, the Kwami of destruction popped back into existence. 

“So… figured out how to help my chosen?” he asked. 

What Tikki didn’t know was when Marinette said she intended to discuss potential holders for Plagg, they really worked on a way to save Adrien. It was their secret since Tikki would most likely disapprove. They didn’t want to risk her disappointment in them. Not until they crafted a fleshed out full-proof plan. 

She nodded. “I have an idea. Let’s hire someone to kidnap him!” 

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Did they hit you on the head, pigtails?”

“No. But look, the problem is whatever we come up with, Adrien ends up blamed or we land ourselves in jail, right?” The Kwami nodded. “So… if we make sure it’s a very public kidnapping and he disappears, we can stash him away until the heat dies down. After we dye his hair and apply fast-tan, he will look different enough no one will connect the two. I’m pretty sure I could get my hands on fake documents if I tried hard enough…” she trailed off thinking of all the minutiae to coordinate to pull this off. 

It would be hard. 

But it would be worth it. 

Plagg slowly nods. “Okay… Somehow, that both makes no sense and seems perfectly legitimate. It’s also your most chaotic plan to date, Pigtails. Let’s do it!” The Kwami cheered, happy to be soon reunited with his chosen kitten. “But what about the costs!”

Marinette already had an answer in mind for that question. “Even after I subtract the costs of materials and other supplies, the payment for the dress, together with my savings, will be more than enough. Now… let’s go wake Tikki up.”

That… ended with the Kwami of Creation vomiting a pile of handcuffs and other police gear at Marinette. 

“Um… Why?”

The little red Kwammi placed her paws on her hips. “Because you should familiarize yourself with those if you plan on going to prison for that plan. It’s no longer just a phone theft, Marinette! You’re talking about breaking more laws than I can count!” She dropped to the pillow below, bemoaning about where she went wrong. 

Marinette scooped up her wayward friend and tried to reassure her. “I just need to be careful. I’m pretty sure I can do it without detection. Maman taught me how to not be seen on the internet. Or in general. Come on. I need to order a secure laptop.”

“I will help!” Plagg offered. “I can cataclysm the internet after you do your thing.”

“What?! No! Think of the cute cat pictures!” Marinette protested. “And video games.” 

“Relax! It’ll just remove any trace of you doing anything online in the several hours or so…” He calmed her.

Tikki trailed after them, a bundle of nerves and worry. “Plagg! It’s irresponsible! You can’t possibly…”

“Pigtails and I have it all under control. What’s the worst that could happen?”

---------

Turns out, a lot. 

Before Marinette put out the hit (kidnapping, she made sure that it was plain as day), she needed to set a price. That one was harder. It wasn’t like you could Google how much you needed to charge to kidnap a celebrity. At least, not without attracting a lot of unwanted attention. 

She asked her mother, under the guise of pure curiosity. It was a normal question any teenage girl asked her mother. How much does it cost to have someone killed, how much cheaper/more expensive a kidnapping is, how to acquire fake documents, that kind of stuff. Not suspicious at all. 

So absorbed in her rant, she missed a merry glint in Sabine’s eyes. She also didn’t question how her Maman knew those prices. 

Finally, she needed to fill the form. 

Assignment: Acquisition and Delivery

Asset(s): Adrien Athanase Agreste

Value: 

Here, Marinette paused. 

Her mom gave her a lengthy lecture about pricing and all. According to her, a professional would take up to fifty thousand dollars for kidnapping and bringing the target to her. Marinette decided, since Adrien was a celebrity, she should double the price. More risks involved, more reward, right? 

But, she also wanted to ensure she hired the best of the best. Compare her work to Gabriel Agreste’s, she came to the conclusion ten times the price was reasonable to ensure only the best in the field would take the job. 

Then, there was the matter of safety and so on and so on. By the end, she settled on two million dollars, as her asking price for one Adrien Agreste. Plagg sagely nodded, agreeing with her assessment. Tikki didn’t comment, as she wasn’t speaking to the two, but also seemed more accepting after spying on Adrien and Lila’s home life. Not that she revealed that tidbit to either of them, lest they drop the plan and directly go at Gabe and the Liar. 

After a few more details and boxes in the form Marinette filled until she came to the end. Only one more detail remained: 

Sponsor:

Marinette stared at the word for a moment. After a quick race of thoughts, she typed slowly. 

Sponsor: The Seamstress

Perfect. Nothing about this could go wrong.

Of course, how could she predict just how big of a mess she would make? 

----------

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

[nettlestonenell]

Enola Holmes in Review

Gentle Readers:

1.       I did not plan to watch Enola Holmes

2.       I do not/have not watched Stranger Things, and my entire concept of Millie Bobby Brown as a human is encapsulated in the occasional errant tumblr post, and a line of eyewear she apparently has created, posters for which hang at my glasses-provider.

3.       I had never heard of the YA novels about Enola Holmes

There she is!

Yes, I do tend to enjoy nearly any incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. And, yes, I am often surprised by this fact. For some reason, Holmes, unlike, say, Chris Evans as Cap or Chris Hemsworth as Thor [instances where I can’t really imagine enjoying anyone else in the role] I am always interested to see someone else’s [writer and actor and director]’s take on him. *Subtle shout-out to James D’Arcy’s 2002 turn in A Case of Evil.

Mr. Jarvis! [and there was Vincent D’Onofrio and opium!!]

And yet, watching the Enola Holmes trailer [no doubt b/c of tumblr], and yes, admittedly not unmoved [we are not made of stone] by Cavill’s Curls™ the delight I felt in watching that advert led me to start informing my family that on September 23rd what I was going to be doing was enjoying Enola Holmes on Netflix [and anyone else was free to join me].

Someone important is missing from this picture

And what a delight it was. In the run-up to its debut I read more than a few reviews of the film [and, I think, every one of them written by men], some of which struck me as simply coming from a place of mean-spiritedness, yet none—even the positive reviews—preparing me for how ENJOYABLE this film is.

I’m not going to provide a full review point-by-point here, b/c the film involves cases to be solved (no, none of them are overwhelmingly complex—YA novel--, so all the more reason not to spoil any pay-offs). But I do have some things to talk about.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM – And what a nice, nice elephant it is! Henry Cavill as Holmes is, in my opinion an absolute delight of a performance. From the moment he first says Enola’s name (a perfectly-rendered reaction to the moment playing out) this Holmes fits into this Greatest Showman-like version of Victorian England, where no one’s too dirty no matter how poor, and where despite a flaming red dress, cut too low for daytime wear, young Enola is never once mistaken for a working girl. [Again, YA novel] As other reviewers have noted, HC is, well, Cut and Bulked Out, and in his highly tailored frock coats well, strapping is too light a description word. *not a complaint. Cavill’s Curls are out and proud and here to tell us that we are meant to be Having Fun, and Gentle Readers—THEY DO NOT LIE.

No, not a priest’s collar where he is undercover (though I had thought so)

In fact, you could absolutely write your thesis statement on this film, that it’s really a fraternal, familial love story between Sherlock and Enola. Sherlock is the character during the two hours that actually changes. [Yes, Enola comes to an understanding about herself, and her circumstances change repeatedly—but it is Sherlock who experiences a Change of Heart/Reversal]. 

Raise your hand if you’re totally here for significantly older brother/significantly youngest sister family love!

HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE IT – This might in no way be helpful, but, Enola Holmes is basically The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles...

Where have you gone, Sean Patrick Flanery?

a YA historical storyline that’s written adjacent to [there, famous people] here, enduring fictional characters. It’s adventurous and pleasantly immersive, historical morays are given a slap-dash portrayal, rather than a fully-accurate representation, there’s adventures to be had, and side-characters to be converted into caring about the title character as much as we, the audience, do.

LUCY HONEYCHURCH – Yes, that gorgeous girl from Windy Corner. The timeline doesn’t jibe, but I daresay Helena Bonham Carter (back in a corset—though she may have worn those for Bellatrix) as Eudoria Holmes *IS* what Lucy Honeychurch might well have become beyond A Room with a View’s end. Bonham Carter looks absolutely at home here (period films have sorely missed her! –she had a part in 2015’s Suffragette), and still wears the trappings of Victorian England like a second skin. 

Not to mention that she now join my personal comfort-list of on-screen mothers with the likes of 1997’s Little Women Susan Sarandon and Cinderella’s Hayley Atwell.

FAMILY ISSUES OR PLOT HOLES? 

It’s a fair question. There’s a lot going on in this plot, some of which...seem solvable. Why has it been so very long since the Holmes brothers have seen their own mother? And sister? How could the woman we come to know as Eudoria raise a Mycroft? [see also, Molly Weasley?] Why aren’t people who seem to care about Enola more engaged with saving her from all the dangers London throws in her way? Why does Enola accept several acts of violence aimed at her, why does she in certain instances Do What She Is Told? Rather than chalk these up to plot holes or convenient devices, I’m siding with the Holmes family being dysfunctional [who knows what dad was like? We’re certainly not told here]. 

[clears throat]

The conversations between Mycroft and Sherlock barely skim the surface of any subject they interact on. Classic dysfunction: distancing one’s true self from human interaction b/c keeping the peace supersedes all else.

Enola accepts certain treatments b/c if we really do watch her relationship with her mother, there is an element of something amiss—as I will declare the later abandonment shows. Enola is a child used to being elevated and celebrated on one hand, and shut out and isolated on the other. Her parent has informed her about so much, but essentially locked her away in a false reality, where Enola is not taken to see the world, nor taught how to interact in it (which is explicitly stated). Perhaps it is not so surprising that the Holmes’ brothers have not cared overly much for visiting their remaining family. And when repeatedly confronted with a minor child (and yet a child likely though old enough or about so, to be married off) being forced to endure things diametrically opposed to her will—the brothers’ reactions are stoic, the system they accept as to how life must be lived immoveable and morally right simply by its very existence.

MILLIE BOBBY BROWN – THE STAR – In what has to be an Emmy-nomination-deserving turn, MBB is nothing short of wholly in charge of the screen. She never overpowers the story. She’s as loveable as Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping, and as ready for her closeup as Jennifer Lawrence in The Hunger Games. As another review mentioned, she handles the 4th wall breaks in such as way as we look forward to the next time she’s going to talk to us. We ache with her sorrow for her lost mom, and rage with her at the adults in her life choosing wrongly for her future—or simply not choosing at all.

A random observation, but one that feels important to me: her HAIR. Yes! They’ve managed to make a late Victorian-era film where the heroine’s hair looks like real hair that someone really styled (or in some scenes, didn’t). And yet, where the hair looks proper for the time. [wild applause]

COMPLAINTS: Well, in honesty there aren’t any. If you want to complain that there isn’t any dirt, that the evil of the world (I mean, c’mon, this is narrowly post-Dickensian London, here) is neutered, that the adults in question seem neither alarmed enough or emboldened enough at either their mother or sister being missing and possibly out of their depths in a dangerous society without protection, and in Enola’s case real-world skills--? Well, I’m certainly not going to disagree with you. This is YA Victorian London, after all, not Ripper Street. There is also neither a hint of or actual threat of sexual violence at any point in the film. But the lack of that has preserved us from having to sit through that, as well as no doubt lectures about how Enola’s virtue might be spoilt and she might become useful to no man.

The relationships are appropriate, too. Despite strides between Enola and certain adults in the film, by the time the credits roll they’re not showing physical affection toward each other (a move that would have seemed over-the-top), and teen relationships are shown progressing at a reasonable and mutedly awkward pace.

Now, Netflix, green-light me five more films (or more). There’s still a new version of John Watson to meet, after all!

[black-moon-raven]

“It's better to be recognized by who you are than be recognized by what sex you are.”

✦————————————✦

[Name] : Yuuno Kurogane

[Alias] :

Yuu

Kurogane-kun

Transfer Student

Newbie

Problematic Child

Herbivore (Leona)

Shrimp ( Floyd)

Trickster (Rook)

Child of Man (Malleus)

Fallen Rose (Hitman name)

[Race] : Human  

[Gender] : Female  

[Age] :  ??? ( appearance between  16-18)

[Birthday] :  December 7

[Starsign] : Sagittarius

[Blood Type] : O

[Dominant Hand] : Ambidextrous

[Voice Actor] : Maaya Sakamoto

✦————————————✦    

PROFESSIONAL STATUS:

[Status] : Alive

[Homeland] : Earth, Japan

[Nationality] : Half-Japanese (father), Half-American (mother)

[Affiliation] :

Night Raven College

Kurogane Clan

Black Port Mafia

Red Moon Gang

[Dormitory] : Ramshackle Dorm

[School Year] : First

[Class] : 1-A    

[Occupation] :

Student

Perfect

Assassin / Hitman

[Favorite Subject] : Alchemy

[Disliked Subject] :  ------

[Club] : none

✦————————————✦    

APPEARANCE INFORMATION:

[Hair] : Brown

[Eyes] : Yellow

[Height] : 173 cm    

[Weight] : 54 kg

[Appearance] :

Yuuno  is described to be as a very beautiful and attractive young woman,  being  almost doll-like in appearance, with amber yellow eyes, fair  complexion,  and tall frame. She has long brown hair with strands that frame her face. She usually has  her hair pulled back in a long ponytail down reaching her waist, but  sometimes she is seen with her hair down.

In Twst Yuuno wears the male uniform with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, because of a  misunderstanding  of her being a boy and also her not correcting the  misunderstanding , she had to stayed wearing the male uniform. Her uniform consists of a black blazer and jeans with gold accents and a gray belt, a gray shirt  with two yellow crystals, under the black vest, black socks, glaves and  shoes and a black and white tie. Under the clothes she wears a body suit and bandages covering her chest.

✦————————————✦    

PERSONAL INFORMATION :

[Family] :

Arthur Rainsworth   |  Maternal Grandfather

Gray Rainsworth   |  Maternal Uncle

Unnamed Father

Unnamed Mother

Unnamed Younger brother

[Personality]

   Yuuno  is a strong and noble young woman with an attentive personality. This  is seen over time as it disinterestedly helps others. She is also gender ambivalent, believing that gender is irrelevant in how a person is perceived or in how their roles in society should be met. She is also blunt in her communication, seeing no point in being  less than completely honest. Her insight into the motives of others  behavior is very keen, though she is clueless about her own feelings.

   Not having magic like her classmates, she displays more practical and responsible qualities, and is not easily swayed by others. She is someone that holds true to her independence as well as her personal values and beliefs.

   She show to be quite calm even in the most arduous situations. But Yuuno can't express himself very well, so she can't express what she really feels, thus hiding her feelings behind a mask so as not to worry anyone and not to get off steamy. Even so, even if she can't express herself very well, she is very perceptive of others emotions, and tries to cheer them up in her own way.

   When it comes to dealing with people of the same age and the whole school in general Yuuna is a little awkward because she has no  previous experience with them. She isn't entirely accustomed to her sudden increase of new friends and often don’t know how to deal better with them. Yuuno has a friendly personality as seen when she immediately became friends with Ace, Deuce and Grim. However she isn’t afraid to hurt who she suspects of harming the people close to her and she doesn’t show mercy to her enemies, she is capable of killing  someone without any remorse but as she is at school she tries to endure (killing or hurt others) as much as possible so as not to cause problems.

   Yuuno when really upset she releases a threatening aura, like bloodlust as a way to warn that if they continue to upset her she can kill them  perfectly, which sometimes makes the other students stop and be afraid.  Normally the Savanaclaw students try not to make her angry because they can feel more easily her aura (Animal instinct for danger.) 

[BackGround]

---Before comming to Twisted Wonderland---

   Yuuno was born in the Kurogane Clan, a wealthy and distinguished household of important status, know for is dojo that produces famous swordsmen for generations. Kurogane family is a also know for being a  very traditional household.

   Yuuno is the only daughter and the  second child of the current Head (unnamed father) and his unnamed  mother, as well as the younger sister of unnamed older brother and older sister of unnamed younger brother. Unlike his siblings, Yuuno was discriminated against by her family except for her mother and younger  brother who adored and love her, while her other family treated her as if she didn't exist. Yuuno when young didn’t know why she was  discriminated, just later years she know why she was.

   There was never a seat saved for her during any celebration and Yuuno would be locked up inside her room. Even though she was locked in the room, her mother would visit her and look after her. Her mother was not the best mother, but at least in comparison with her father she was better than him. Reading stories to her, playing with her or teaching her new things, her mother discovered that Yuuno had talent because she learned things more quickly. Her mother told her father about her learning  things quickly but he didn't care about her. As time passed, her mother stopped going to visit Yuuno and later unfortunately she ended up dying  when she has five years old. Alone, Yuuno started looking at the window as a way to pass the time, and see her older brother training or the other clan people training in the dojo. Years later on her seventh birthday, someone came to her room, it was her younger brother. He was very cute and looked a lot like her decease mother, they even transmitted the same energy, and Yuuno's days were back to having a little color. Her younger brother would came to visit her every day and every day he would talk about his day, play with her and sometimes he would brought flowers and other things when he could. But just like the mother, the younger brother stopped coming to visit her and as always she was alone again.

   When she was eight unable to endure it  anymore, Yuuno ran away from home and went to a park near the mansion,  where she sat looking at the people passing by, it was there that she  met an old man named Arthur, with whom she started talking since then.  Every day she ran away from home and went to that park to talk to Arthur, he told stories of how he traveled to different parts of the  world. As the days went by she opened up to him and told him about her life, and how she was treated at home and everything. One day when she was getting ready to leave to go to the park, someone from the clan calls her and asks her to follow, then she follows, she follows the  person to a room. When she opens the door she is faced with her father who had only seen from the bedroom window and Arthur. Yuuno was afraid,  thought that maybe Arthur was someone from the clan and that he said that she ran away from home and told strangers about her life. But when she heard it from her father's mouth that Arthur was actually her  mother's father, in this case her grandfather and that he was there to pick her up, Yuuno was more surprised but decided to accept, because  between being stuck in the room without seeing her family and being with the grandfather who spoke to her and gave her freedom, she preferred to stay with her grandfather, at least until she was older.

    Apparently her mother had run away from home and that was when she met her father and later on they got married. As Arthur knew where his  daughter was and saw that she was happy he let it go, but he came to know recently that his daughter had died, and he came to visit her tomb,  and when he left, he saw Yuuno the vivid image of his daughter sitting there in the park alone looking at people, he knew right away that she was his granddaughter and then he wanted to know why she was in the park alone, it was then that he decided to do some research and came to know that of the 3 grandchildren, Yuuno was being mistreated by the clan. So he decided to visit that park every day, to see if Yuuno would open up  to him and gain trust in him for later when he went to get her, she would not feel awkward.

   Yuuno went to America, which was where her grandfather Arthur lived and there she met her uncle Gray who was her mother's older brother. Yuuno also discovered that his grandfather was the former boss if Black Port Mafia and that his uncle is the current boss, and that the reason why  her mother ran away was because she didn’t want to have connections with the Mafia and didin’t like what they do. Since then Yuuno lived happily, she had the love of her grandfather her uncle and also the people of the mafia, she didn’t know why her mother didn’t like the mafia because they were all friendly to her and protected her. After a year of being with her grandfather and her uncle, Yuuno asked her grandfather if he could train her, because she wanted to become strong and wanted to be doing something at the same  time, the reason she asked if she could train was because she remembered when she hold always see her brother and the people of the  clan training, so she thought "why not, since you are not in that  mansion you could also train to become strong and maybe be recognized by  your father  when you come back". So Yuuno with 9 years, started training with her grandfather and her uncle, although the training  wasn’t  “normal” because one was the former mafia boss and another was the current boss, so the training was not “normal”. Arthur who was the one who started training her because he had more free time, started to  see that Yuuno learned quickly, perhaps due to all the years that Yuuno  was neglected by the clan, she became “hungry for knowledge” making her able to learn just by seeing people, but her body couldn’t follow with her knowledge, which often led to severe pain in her body, but over time with the training she got used to the pain and her body started to follow her knowledge and in a short time Yuuno became a master in defense and martial arts, but that only weren't enough to feed her  “hunger for knowledge”.

   One day Yuuno was poisoned, she took the cure but until the cure took effect on her, she still suffered a lot but was able to endure thanks to the training . It was at that time when she realized how naive she was, and know the reason her mother decided to run away. No matter how strong she is or how protective she was. She can die of poison without knowing she was poisoned or someone could try to kill her in other way, so since that day Yuuno asked his uncle if he could teach more things, Gray at first refused but when he saw how much  she wanted to know he couldn’t deny it anymore and he taught her about poisons, not knowing that it was just the beginning.

  Yuuno aged 14, entered the Red Moon Gang which was a group of assassins from the Black Port Mafia with the code name Fallen Rose, Yuuno decided to enter the mafia as a way to improve his knowledge and protect his family. At the age of 15 Yuuno felt confident that she had learned what was  necessary to have recognition from her father so she decided to return to Japan. But when she comes back, he didn't care about her and everything was the same as it was before, months later she decided to return to America and went back to participate in the Red Moon Gang missions.

  When Yuuno turned 16, Arthur tells Yuuno the  truth about why her father didn't want to know about her. Arthur says that the reason why her father didn't want to know about her, was to  protect her. Since her father was small, the clan's olders had put the  clan's ideals in him and what he should do and everything, and he knowing what the clan's olders were like, he didn't want Yuuno to be used as a disposable piece to make the clan gaining connections in other words getting married, which is why if he paid the slightest attention  to her, she would be used, just as her older brother was being used now.  Arthur also said that it was her father who had found him and who had  told him about Yuuno's mother having died and about her condition. Yuuno tells Arthur that she already knew, that when she returned to Japan she  had noticed and that was why she later gave up having the so-called recognition by her father, because she knew that if she had been  acknowledged by him she would be used by the clan as a piece, she also said that she didn’t hate him for not trying to fight the elderly clan  because she knows they are not very good and if she were in the same position she would have done the same.

  Later Yuuno stops participating in the missions and decides to live alone and go to a  school in Japan away from the Clan and the Mafia, as a way to gain  experience in society.  

---In Twisted Wonderland---

  Yuuno wakes up in one of the black coffins, having little memories of how she arrived at Night Raven College, along with having nothing to identify themselves with like her wallet or phone. Because Yuuno is not form this world, she doesn’t possess any magic like the other students in Twisted  Wonderland. The magic mirror remarks that she is "empty."

   Yuuno is enrolled in Night Raven College with Grim as one student and lives in the Ramshackle Dorm with him and the ghosts.

✦————————————✦    

[Fun Facts]:

[Likes] :

Sweets

Animals  

Horor Movies

[Dislikes]:

People who underestimate her  

Hear people talking badly about her friends

[Hobbies] :

Cooking

Gymnastics

Train her combat skills

[Fears] :

Lightning (it’s not a fear but she doesn’t like lightnings so)

See her family and friends die in front of her and not be able to protect them.

[Weakness] :

If her heart gets very stressed, she can't concentrate and be able to analyze calmly, and she may not be able to use or control herself when needed.

Her grandfather and uncle say that she has "hunger for knowledge" because of this Yuuno is able to store many things in her head but sometimes her body doesn’t accompany her, leading to extreme pain in her, like when she was younger and was learning martial arts, she was able to learn mentally and knew what to do but her body was not used to it and was not keeping up with her knowledge, which led her body to be hurt and in pain for some time until her body was getting used to it and follow her knowledge, that's why she has to rest well and always be training to not lose her shape.(her knowledge is her talent but at the same time her weakness if she is not careful)

[Favorite Food] :  japanese traditional sweets and food 

[Least Favorite Food] : onions

[Favorite Drink] : green tea

[Least Favorite Drink] : Carbonated drinks

[Talents] : Shooting

[Unique Magic] : None (she doesn’t have magic)

[ADDITIONAL FACTS] :

[Trivia] :

The stories her mother told when she was younger were actually Disney tales.  

Arthur (maternal grandfather) and Gray (uncle) are very  fond of Yuuno  because she looks like her mother, so they have  difficulties in refusing  the things Yuuno asks of them, example of  which was when she asked  Arthur to train her and Gray to teach about  poisons and how to murder.

In reality her father cares about her only that he can’t show interest in  her because otherwise, it will  cause the olders of the clan to use her  for the sake of the clan and  not for her sake, that's why he tries not  to show interest in her when  in reality he cares about her and loves  her. The older brother is like  that too, he knows that if he talks to her and shows interest, the  olders of the clan will use her, it was him who prevented the younger  brother from going to visit her because he was  drawing attention. Yuuno only later knows that her father and brother's attitude was as a way of protecting her that's why she never hated them.

Yuuno  not only learned methods of self-defense or methods of killing, she also  learns common things like taking lessons in Japanese harp, flower  arrangement, calligraphy, and dance, as well as studying cooking and  gymnastics as a hobby.

If it weren't for the family's situation or if she hadn't followed the mafia path, Yuuno would have grown like an ojousama.

Yuuno doesn't like lightning because it reminds her of the days when she was alone in the room and had to hear the lightning strikes alone in fear.

Yuuno has tattoos:on her two legs, on her right arm, on her chest and on  her back. The design of the tattoos are black roses with thorns.

Yuuno with 16 years old she decided to go to study in Japan.

Yuuno doesn't know how she got in Twisted Wonderland, she has no memories of how she got there. 

One of the reasons that Yuuno's age is ??? it is because it isn’t known if she went to Twst with the aged between 16 and 18 or if she was older only that going to twst she became younger, because as I said before, she doesn't remember how she got in Twst.

In Twst Yuuno was misunderstanding as a boy and only in  episode 5 did they discover that he was in really a she. It was also Yuuno's fault because  she didn't correct people because she really  didn't care if she was  treated like a boy.

Yuuno is gender ambivalent, believing  that gender is irrelevant in how a person is  perceived or in how their  roles in society should be met, that's why  she didn't care if she was  treated like a boy.

Dire Crowley and NRC staff knew that Yunna  was a girl, but since she didn't care about people treating her like a boy, they let her be and see how long the rest of the students discovered that he is a she, but they never  expected that took that much  time .

Ace and Deuce who spent  more time with her never noticed that he was a she, they just thought  that Yuuna was a girlish boy, like Apel.

Jack, Leona and Ruggie  and some students from Savanaclaw discovered that she was a girl in episode 3, but decided not to tell anyone. They already had an idea that  she was probably a girl due to the smell and in episode 3 they confirmed their suspicions. 

Professor Divus and Vil used to ask her, if she didn't want to wear a female uniform, Yuuno always refuses because she finds it more comfortable and easy to move the male uniform, they both gave up after asking her many times.

Because Yuuno always took classes at home, when she went to Twst, she didn't know how to communicate with  people of the same age because she always spoke to people older than her so she was a little awkward at first.

Yuuno when she met the ghosts of Ramshackle Dorm she wasn’t afraid of them, she was only surprised because she had never seen ghosts in real life and just only in films. After living with the ghosts for a while, she became friends with them.

Yuuno likes to receive praises for when she does things well.

Yuuno likes to learn new things her grandfather and her uncle used to say that she is "hungry for knowledge" always wanting to learn new things and storing them inside her head so she can use them later. When she started her classes at NRC she was thrilled to learn new things about Twst, she wanted so much to learn about the Twst that she used to visit the library when she could, to gain new knowledge. She often uses her knowledge in classes and exams.

Yuuno after taking the disc in episode 2, she noticed that she was getting too relaxed with her training because she was on Twst and then after that she went back to training as she trained when she was in her world.

Yuuno after episode 3, she sometimes works at the Mostro Lounge to earn money.

Due to the training she had as a child and also because she was an assassin in the mafia, Yuuno has more refined senses than a normal person. Able to hear, feel and smell when someone tries to approach her (although she can't feel it when Lilia approaches her, making her surprised many times for not being used to it), she is also able to know and identify the type of poison, used in food to poison her, through smell and taste (she was surprised when in ep.4 she heard Kalim talking about having eaten poison, making her realize that no matter what world she is in, we can all be poisoned in some way way, although she didn’t agree on Kalim’s way of thinking at the time).

[nanoland]

new chapter (lucifer fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here) 

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 3 

Mazikeen + Eve + Michael, gen fic (for now), warning for gun violence 

0   

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”  

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.”

[dreaming-in-alicante]

First chapter is up!

I have 5 more chapters planned out. It’ll depend on how much work I have with the end of the semester, but I hope to update weekly!

Chapter 1: A research opportunity

   _________________________________________________________

A month ago, Grace had sat shell-shocked in the Institute infirmary in the aftermath of the battle, attempting to process the bloodshed she had witnessed and the fact that Tatiana was dead. Jesse, busy talking to Lucie and her parents, making funeral arrangements, had left Grace alone for a while. It was Christopher Lightwood of all people who had noticed her sitting there frozen, who had walked over and offered an awkward pat on the shoulder. He expressed his sympathies and then, seemingly at a loss for a way to help her feel better, told Grace that she was welcome to come visit the lab at any time if she would like something to do to take her mind off of the circumstances. “You were a great help in figuring the function of the pithos that time,” he’d said before wandering off.

Of course that had been before. Before word of her confession had gotten out. Before her trial by Mortal Sword three weeks ago. The Consul had let Grace off without punishment because she was underage and influenced – manipulated – by her mother. No, not mother, Tatiana. You were never a daughter to her, Grace reminded herself. She bought you, you were only ever a weapon that she wielded.

Now that Tatiana was gone and Jesse was restored to life, Grace found herself adrift. Word spread quickly amongst the Clave about what she’d done: the misery she had inflicted on James and by extension Cordelia; her use of demon-gifted power to influence and seduce numerous men – including the Consul’s own son; her involvement in necromancy. She knew plenty of Shadowhunters would happily see her spend time imprisoned in the Silent City. She had made so many apologies that she had quite lost track, but it was not enough – might never be enough. She was still technically part of the Clave, yet no one seemed to know what to do with her. She was even invited to a party last week where everyone had given her a wide berth; a perfect example of how she remained part of things, but was held at a distance.

Grace had spent weeks alone in the apartment Jesse had found for them, reading like she had always done. Now that Jesse was not a ghost, he was no longer her constant companion. He was alive again, out making friends and experiencing the world anew. He had started training and was visiting all the sights of London with Lucie. It was everything Grace had wished for him for years, except now she found herself even lonelier than before. Jesse had invited her along to everything but it was awkward to be around even Lucie.  Despite their shared mission to restore Jesse to life and her newfound relationship with Jesse, Lucie was struggling to forgive Grace for her part in James and Cordelia’s suffering. After all, it was Lucie’s own brother and her future parabatai that Grace had hurt. So Grace continued a nearly isolated existence, most days only seeing Jesse briefly in the morning and evenings.

It was the boredom and loneliness that had finally driven Grace to make a call on the Consul’s house at Grosvenor Square. She had overheard Lucie telling Jesse that Christopher was hard at work on something and spending nearly every weekday in the lab there. Surely Christopher should despise Grace after the way she had hurt his friends. Yet he had offered a small wave and smile at the party several days ago when they passed each other near the refreshments. His small gesture and her desperate state had been enough for her to gather her courage and venture out today.

   ________________________________________________________

 Grace stifled a sneeze as she descended the steps into the laboratory. A smoky haze hung in the air and it smelled like… gunpowder? What on earth had Christopher been doing? She paused uncertainly and nearly turned in retreat before steeling her nerve and continuing down.

Grace reached the bottom of the stairs and peered around the lab. “Christopher?” she called tentatively. “Are you working down here?”

A messy head of brown hair, darkened by – was it gunpowder? – shot up from behind the lab bench on the far side of the room. Christopher pushed rounded goggles up onto his head as he strode over to her.  “Grace! How nice to see you again!” he greeted her. His skin and once-white shirt were also covered in a fine layer of dark dust. “I suppose I saw you a few days ago at the party but you weren’t there long were you? Jesse said you weren’t feeling well. I heard there was a cold going around, is that what you had? Are you feeling better now?” he asked kindly.

Grace hadn’t felt well at the party, but it had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with the fact that Jesse was the single truly friendly face in that enormous ballroom. Lucie had awkwardly engaged her in stilted conversation before being whisked off to the dance floor by Jesse. After half an hour hovering on the outskirts of the room Grace could simply not endure the suspicious glances from the other guests, and she fled back home. “No, I wasn’t feeling well, but I feel much better now,” she told him simply.

“That’s good to hear!” Christopher said earnestly. “It’s never fun being sick. I detest the medicine my mother makes me take for coughs. That’s actually a project I’d like to pursue at some point, to see if medicine can be flavored but still retain its potency. I think if one could take some fruit, for example, and isolate the components of the fruit – molecules they’re called – that cause the specific taste and – ” he cut himself off abruptly. “My apologies Grace, you obviously came here for a reason and here I am boring you. Did you need help with something?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.

Grace thought she could cry for the sense of normalcy in the conversation and the kindness in his gaze. It was the complete opposite of the stiff, clipped exchanges and distrustful stares she had received since her trial by the Mortal Sword. Jesse was there for support of course, but he also faced distrust – returning from the dead through necromancy tended to make people wary. So to have Christopher – one of the ‘Merry Thieves’ no less – act like nothing at all was wrong, it was a relief.

She would have told Christopher to keep talking about the cough medicine and molecules – the idea sounded quite fascinating – but he had asked her a question. “I…I came to take you up on your offer to help in the laboratory. That is, if you’re sure you still want my help” she said hesitantly, clasping her hands together. “I know you offered weeks ago and I understand if you would prefer me to stay away now that you’ve heard the full story of everything I’ve done…” she trailed off uncertainly.

Christopher blinked at her for a moment, seemingly in shock, before his face split in a wide grin. “Really? You’d like to work here in the lab? No one besides Henry has ever been interested!” He paused thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. “Well, Thomas does often help but I believe he feels obligated as my cousin. It’s not that he has any deep fascination with science and invention. Although he did make the cure for the Mandikhor poison! But I don’t think he enjoyed the process.” He frowned. “I suppose solving the puzzle of a complicated antidote is much more stressful when people are about to die,” he concluded.

“So, you’re sure you would still like having me around?” Grace asked, tense. “After the pain I caused your friends, I understand if you don’t want my assistance.”

“Of course I’d like you to help!” Christopher replied excitedly. “Having another pair of hands is always useful, and you actually want to be here! As for everything with James and such,” he said seriously, “you apologized didn’t you? And I’m sure you won’t do it again if you feel so badly about it now.”

Grace was astounded. “I did apologize and no, I don’t plan to manipulate anyone in that way again,” she managed to say. “I couldn’t even if I wished to,” she added, “the Silent Brothers found a way to remove my power.” That ritual, performed two weeks by Broth Enoch, had made her ill. She spent the better part of a day asleep, and still felt exhausted the day afterward.

“Then it’s all settled!” Christopher proclaimed brightly. “Let’s see, there’s a space on the benchtop over here where you can work, I have some of my notes there now but I can clean those up, put them over with…” He scurried over to a bench on the left of the room and began tidying it, muttering to himself.

Grace followed slowly after him, still in some disbelief. Yes, she had traveled all the way over to the lab and hoped his offer to join him in the lab still stood. However, she had prepared herself to be brushed off. Had expected Christopher to distrust her now that he knew all of her questionable actions, the ways she had hurt his friends and cousins. Technically she also was, or had been, his cousin by adoption; for some reason she brushed the thought of it away. They weren’t actually related. Especially now that she had reclaimed the Cartwright surname, distancing herself from Tatiana.

“There!” Christopher announced, pulling Grace out of her thoughts. He had cleared the bench of papers and bottles and beakers, and brushed off a layer of dust. “This can be your work station,” he told her. “I’ll find you a notebook to record your findings in, and you can work with me on some projects! Or do you have any ideas or projects of your own you’d like to pursue?” he inquired.

“I read many books growing up, many containing scientific information, so I know some basic principles,” Grace said. “However, I fear that much of the information is decades out of , and I'm sure there are many advancements I have not learned of,” she confessed. “Perhaps you can tell me what you’re working on? Were you doing some experiment involving gun powder just now?”

“Indeed I was!” Christopher replied with a gleam in his eye. “For a years now I’ve been trying to adapt incendiary weapons for use against demons. Angelic runes prevent the gunpowder from igniting somehow, and unless runes are involved the demons can’t be harmed.” He gestured her over to the far side of the room where a couple of guns laid on the table, one partly disassembled, as well as a small grenade.

“You made the runed revolver for James, didn’t you?” she asked, trailing a finger over the rune inscribed on the barrel of the rifle laid out on the bench.

“I did,” Christopher replied. “The problem is, James is the only one who can use it. Something to do with his shadow powers. Even Lucie can’t make it work. Quite confounding.” He held up a very familiar object – the pithos that Belial had used to steal marks. “I’ve been testing different rune placements with this,” he said, “because I thought perhaps an indirect application would make a difference. I’ve tried inscribing inside and outside on different parts. I also have a collection of gunpowder that I put in this runed box.” He gestured with the pithos to a small cubic container, every side plastered with a variety of runes. “The gun still fires – that’s what I was testing before you came in. No telling whether it will have any effect on a demon though,” he said, “It depends on how the runes transfer energy, which is an area no one fully understands yet.” He paused uncertainly, and set the pithos back on the benchtop. “I know you said you’d like to learn, Grace, but I’m not boring you am I?” he asked, sounding troubled.

“No, not at all,” she said quickly, turning her attention away from the disassembled handgun she’d been inspecting to his face. “Truly, it’s fascinating. I enjoy learning and you do a wonderful job of explaining things.”

“Oh,” said Christopher, turning faintly pink at the compliment. “Well, jolly good then. Besides Henry, people never really want to hear details,” he confided.

Grace thought briefly that perhaps Tatiana had been right when she called the Clave a pack of fools. Was there genuinely no one besides Henry Fairchild who appreciated the extent of Christopher’s scientific work? Not even his friends? “How about this?” she said, turning fully to face him. “I promise that if I ever want you to stop talking I’ll tell you directly, but otherwise, I wish to hear every detail. Here, we can shake on it.” She extended her hand between them and asked, “Deal?”

Christopher looked bewildered for a moment, blinked, then took her hand and shook it. His strange violet eyes shone as they met hers and he said, “Deal.”

[belpheroo]

Title: A “maybe” Pairing: Belphegor x MC Summary: Belphie is guilt-ridden, but also horny. Funny how often those two things coincide when you catch feels for the girl you killed. Rating: this one is G despite that summary LOL Notes: This story kinda functions under the assumption that while Belphie was imprisoned the MC developed feels and those feels have continued on while Belphie’s are shiny and new. I may do a part 2!

There were things that Belphegor, given his passed actions, was willing to accept. The silence that overcame a room the moment he entered and even the suspicious, hostile stares of his brothers was something he knew he deserved to endure and he did so without complaint.

Anger, resentment, judgment… he had felt the burn of those emotions himself, burrowing within his body as surely as the arrows that had burrowed into Lilith’s. Each ache, each flare of pain had been as dear to him as every one of her embraces. He had nurtured his hatred like a precious flower until it unfurled in his chest with petals as black as old blood. He empathized with that. He understood that.

What he did not understand, was how she immediately cheerfully welcomed him to the breakfast table, set him a plate and asked him how he had slept.

At first, Belphie figured it was a game, a show of indifference or forgiveness of his crime in order to quell the awkward tension in the room. And yet… there was nothing indifferent in her acceptance of his request to spend time with her, or how she did not even flinch in his presence.

What time he did spend with her was usually between walls of plaster and paint, connected by the screen of their D.D.D.’s alone. Anything else was chaperoned by another brother, sometimes two or three. Belphie found quickly that all his attempts to be alone with her in person were thwarted spectacularly by Mammon or Beel often enough that he knew it was by design.

Still, Belphegor did not complain. Of all the dangers she had faced in Devildom, of all the threats… he had proved himself the worst.

Thinking of such things made his hands throb, the memory of her soft yielding skin beneath them and the rapid pulse of her throat until it had slowly… softly…. stopped.

He’d tear the skin from his palms if he knew it would make the phantom sensation of her life being squeezed out by his hands go away. Instead he’d clench his fists, holding until the joints of his fingers screamed for release and his nails bit into his palms, leaving red half-moons indented in his skin.

It would have been easier if she hated him. Feared him. He could quantify those things, he could accept them.

But this? This was torture beyond his comprehension.

She’d invited him to watch some DVD of Mammon’s with her and Beel in their shared room. She was already sitting on one end of the sofa, chattering to Beel over some nonsense that had transpired with Mammon and Asmo that afternoon.

He would have been content to sit on the other end of the couch, leaving Beel free to sit between them like a protective detail… but instead, the moment he had sat, she quickly moved across the length of the sofa and curled up next to him.

Pressed flush to his side, Belphegor felt his breath catch as she lifted up his unresisting arm and tucked her head beneath, content to let his arm rest around her shoulders. Belphie quickly moved it to rest over the back of the sofa, noting with a quick glance that at least for now, Beel had not reacted.

He was too busy putting in the DVD and adjusting the TV. After that, his twin was too busy gathering up a large bowl of popcorn and making himself comfortable next to her and she happily adjusted to accommodate being squished between the both of them.

Belphegor didn’t know why, but it made him curl his arm just a little bit closer towards her as Beel munched happily from a big bowl of popcorn. There were pretzels and chocolate candies mixed into the batch, which Beel graciously offered a smaller bowl of to her.

She rested the bowl on Belphie’s lap, happy to force him to play side table as the lights dimmed and the DVD started.

Belphie convinced himself, willed himself to believe it wasn’t that bad. This was nice, wasn’t it? Compared to hatred and brimstone and fury? Right?

And then her hand reached down into the bowl, moving it around as she scooped out the treats, every tiny movement of her fingers against the plastic barrier sending a direct line of sensation against his thighs. With an exasperated sigh, Belphie quickly lifted the bowl up and shoved it back into her hands.

“I can’t sleep if you do that.” He said in a harsh hush.

“You aren’t supposed to sleep during the movie, stupid.” She whispered back in reply.

“You aren’t supposed to talk during one either, stupid.” Belphie replied, but to his surprise he could see her grinning in the faint light, eyes dancing with unspoken humor. She put the bowl back in his lap.

He wished he was trapped back in the attic; he wished he was imprisoned in heaven; he wished he was on the fucking moon as long as it wasn’t here with her body warming his and her scent in his nose and the feeling of her throat cracking beneath his palms.

Belphie took in a deep breath and let it go slowly, quietly clenching his hand into the fabric of the back of the couch until he was certain he’d have lines imprinted on his skin. He let the memory wash over him and then recede, refocusing his attention to the film and finding it was some weird detective-comedy-romance blend. It was insipid and perfectly Mammonish, but even she sometimes laughed at the terrible jokes.

At one point, he felt her weight shift, leaning to the side as she whispered something quietly to Beel. Something prickled in his chest. She leaned further, cool air touching where she had once been at his side and without thinking, he released the couch and took hold of her shoulder, pulling her back firmly.

“… I’m cold.” Belphie offered in his defense, trying to cut the sudden surge of tension that had Beel frozen, not even chewing as he stared at his twin.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, settling back against him, “I could get a blanket and tuck you in if you want?”

“N-no!”

Heaven’s sake, now he sounded like Mammon.

“Just quit wiggling so much.”

In direct opposition of his request, she wiggled all over, giggling like a fool. Belphie instinctively held tighter until whatever seizure of defiance passed her and she settled again, breathing a bit heavier, against his chest.

There wasn’t going to be room for her damn bowl if she kept trying to half crawl into his lap. It never, thankfully, went that far. The film flickered on and Belphie felt the slow creep of sleep inch its way into his eyes and into his breathing, the demands of being the Avatar of Sloth rising up, unchecked and uncontrollable as Beel’s hunger.

He tilted his head back and let oblivion have him.

—

“You missed it.”

A voice sliced through the dark, close and warm on his cheek like the soft exhale of breath… because that is what it was. He opened one eye to spot her, whispering close to his ear. Judging by the great collapsed mass next to them, Beel hadn’t made it any further than he had, the empty popcorn bowl discarded on the floor along with several wrappers, bags and empty cans he didn’t remember having been there before.

“Tragic.”

“Beel’s in a food coma. I went and got him more snacks half-way through.”

“You got up?”

She hummed her confirmation quietly, “You got mad at me when I came back.”

“I don’t remember.” Belphie grumbled.

“You told me to ‘take responsibility’ and grabbed me by the scruff like a cat.”

At the very idea, Belphie felt his muscles tense… which drew his attention to the fact his hand was still rested on the back of her neck, fingers buried into her hair.

“… is that why you’re this close?”

“You wouldn’t let go!”

He started to, slowly letting his grip loosen all the while keenly aware of the strands of her hair tickling across his skin.

“Kinda late now.” She said in reply, quick and defensive. Did she… not want him to stop?

“I wondered if you were dreaming about throttling me again.” She said, far too cheerful. The words were like ice thrown over him, seeping immediately through his skin and chilling his blood. And yet at the same time, he let go of her as if he had been burned. He tried to repress a shudder.

“No,” Belphie managed to croak, “I wasn’t dreaming. I… I wasn’t dreaming.”

“You repeated yourself.”

“Get off me, I’m going to bed.”

“No.”

Childish, defiant, foolish. A thousand insults formed and died on his tongue before they reached her ears as he glared back at her face, still too close and too warm and too beautiful.

“… I’m scared.”

How many times was she going to strike him directly to his very soul? But this was is it, this was the punishment he craved, the anger and the fear he knew should exist between them. He was ready, braced and prepared to hear it, but what came next was… not what he expected.

“I’m scared if I let go now, you’ll never let me this close again.”

“You should be grateful.” Belphie said, more sigh than words, “And you should be scared, but not because of that stupid reason.”

“You won’t hurt me again.”

“The fact you even sound remotely sure of that makes you a complete idiot. I’m a demon, of course I’ll hurt you again.”

“Because you want to?”

“No!”

The word came too fast, too loud. Beel shifted on the couch next to them, but fell back into sleep and did not stir again.

“… you didn’t know I was Lilith’s descendant. If you’d known—”

“You don’t understand anything,” he whispered, harsh and low, “Get off of me.”

And this time, he made to make her, but her arms snaked around his chest and held even tighter. Belphie could have easily pried her off with his superior devil strength, but explaining that to Beel would have been… less than ideal.

Instead he set a tight grip on her upper arms, giving her a warning squeeze.

“What don’t I understand?”

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You wouldn’t have hurt me if you knew who I was, that is the truth, isn’t it?”

“I do not want to talk about this shit—“

“Isn’t it?”

Belphie felt heat ball up at the base of his throat, so thick and so scorching his one relief was to let it escape.

“I don’t know!”

There was no keeping Beel asleep now, his brother jolting awake. She let go of Belphie then, untangling herself swiftly and instead turning a bright smile that barely reached her eyes towards Beel.

“Good morning! You missed the end of the movie!”

Beel was still mostly groggy, but alerted at the same time, looking between the two of them with wide questioning eyes.

“… why was there shouting?”

“I woke him up!” She said with a cackle, “I deserved it, probably. Anyway, it’s super late and you both got to have a nap and I didn’t!”

Standing up she gave an over exagerated stretch and a yawn which turned genuine half way through. Belphie clutched his jaw together to keep himself from doing the same.

“Come walk me back to my room.” She said, clearly meaning Belphie, not Beel. He thought to refuse, but the look in her eye said that such a refusal would most likely lead to an inexhaustible battle and he was way too fucking tired and too fucking stressed out to go back and forth with her in front of Beel.

“I can come too.” Beel said.

“Nah. It’s just a short walk. Go get in bed, it’s late and Belphie has had more rest than you. He can do it!”

Beel looked uncertain, eyes turning toward Belphie with ill-ease. Of all the brothers though, he was most likely to believe his twin was safe alone with her, that Belphie was certain of. Sighing, Belphie stood up.

“I’ll be right back.”

Beel said nothing, that familiar tension settling over again until, quietly, Beel nodded to himself and smiled.

“Okay…”

“Make sure to brush your teeth, Beel!”

“O-oh. Right… mint does sound good right now.”

—

They had barely made it out into the hall, the door shut behind them, before she picked up their conversation as if the interruption had never happened.

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’, huh?”

“I mighta done what I did even if I knew who you were. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed it, maybe I would have been pissed Lilith was contaminated by human blood.” He said, cold and factual.

“Is that why you’re holding back?”

“…You’re imagining things.”

She didn’t look at all satisfied, but she fell silent, heading off down the hall towards her room and pausing expectantly a few steps away. Belphie sighed and followed behind.

“I don’t think you would have.”

“Does it matter? I did. There is no taking that back.”

She tilted her head, slowing enough to fall in step with him, “I’m still here.”

“By the very grace of Lilith. And that doesn’t make it better.”

She slowed, falling to a dead stop. Belphie made it a few steps ahead before he stopped, turning towards her with a look that he hoped convinced her to give it up.

“If I told you I hated you, would you stop being like this?”

He felt his heart seize a little, jumping in something akin to anticipation.

“Could we just move on then?”

“I would understand if you did hate me.”

“But you can’t understand that maybe, maybe, I’ve weighed all the weirdness and the madness of this situation and came to the conclusion that there was a lotta bullshit flowing around and it was fate I got caught in the crosshairs? And yeah, that sucks. Being dead for real would have been really shitty and I am mad… at you and at Lucifer and at this entire stupid situation pulling me into a garbage family drama I never asked for.”

She paused, “But it was supposed to happen. Lilith knew and I know now. Nothing anyone coulda done would have changed what happened, it had to happen. It’s why I was brought here to begin with, whether Diavlo knew that or not.”

They were both silent for a stretch, until Belphie couldn’t help but laugh, cold and bitter.

“What? So it’s okay that I murdered you because it was destiny?”

“Attempted murder. And yeah, I think that if I’m gonna be mad, I’m gonna be mad at fate. You? I forgive.”

Belphie hated that word. Hated how easily it came from her lips and hushed the flame of rage in his heart to a quiet simmer. It was never that easy for him to forgive, it shouldn’t be that easy.

“You can’t.” He said, flat and simple.

“Pretty sure that is my call.”

“It’s a stupid call.”

“And it’s mine.”

“And you think that makes it all okay? You think you can just say ‘I forgive you’ and it makes everything better and we can just pretend to be friends?”

“You pretended to be my friend once.” She said, her words a whisper.

“Don’t.”

How that positively gutted sounding voice could be his was beyond Belphie’s comprehension.

“You wanna be hated? You wanna be punished? Too bad. That’s your punishment. You don’t get to be hated.”

His mind whirled, a petal black as night coming free and falling from the flower inside his chest. Wilting, dying. How many had he lost so far? How often had she shaken his resolve and in doing so, began to kill the seed of hatred and anger he had rooted so firmly in his soul?

Belphie didn’t have the strength to fight her anymore, shoulders sagging as a new wave of exhaustion hit over him, taking with it any resistance he had left in its tide.

“Fine.” He said, trying to force what was left of his resolve into that word if only to give the illusion she hadn’t really won.

“Fine.” She repeated, crossing her arms and glaring back at him.

“Can you make it to your own room now? Can I go?”

“No.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“W-what?! How did that become an—! Oh… you meant…”

Belphie resisted the urge to roll his eyes… well, at least for a few seconds.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Asmo.”

“And whose dumb-obstinate fault is that?” She retorted, smiling despite the redness in her cheeks.

“Yours, stupid human.”

“Yours, lazy cow.”

A smile crooked at the corner of his mouth and he quickly tried to hide it.

“I want a hug.”

God, how did an adult woman manage to sound so pouty? Belphie could barely contain a scoff as he saw the way her brow furrowed and her bottom lip stuck out a bit more. He tried to ignore the voice inside him that wanted to set his teeth into it… that wanted to find out if she still tasted like popcorn and chocolate.

“Too much.”

“What about a pat?”

Belphie groaned, but after a moment, gestured a little with his hand to indicate she should come closer. She did so eagerly.

“Your tail is wagging.” Belphie said with a sigh, gently resting his hand on top of her head and soothing his fingers down the strands, brushing them passed her temple and tucking them behind her ear.

“I don’t have one.” She said, a look of disappointment coming over her features when he stopped touching her hair.

“Still wagging.”

He caught her under the chin with the back of his index finger, tilting her head to the side before he leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. The touch was featherlight and fleeting, like the soft opening and closing of a butterfly wings on her skin.

“Go to bed.” He said quietly.

“I want a kiss.” She replied, just as softly and Belphie felt a whole new sensation burst somewhere deep inside his chest.

“You’ve had one.”

“I want another.”

“…Not tonight.”

“But sometime?”

Belphie didn’t answer, leaving the question an open note hanging in the air.

A someday, an almost... a maybe.

[smooshjames]

Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

[hollyxqx]

ALWAYS  :  NAMJOON  :  EPILOGUE

↪ PAIRING: Kim Namjoon x Reader ↪ GENRE: idol!au | ex’s to lovers | angst | smut ↪ SUMMARY: the story of how almost divorced, disgraced idol kim namjoon tries to put his life back the way it was after the world found out he was married and had a kid. ↪ WORD COUNT: 6k

↪ WARNINGS: angst angst angst, smut, nj has a mild pregnancy kink, oc body shames themselves a lot, milddddd drug references, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: sorry this was delayed but here it is! thank you for being so patient and i really hope yall enjoy/are satisfied with the ending . my ask is always open if you have any questions or comments :):)

ONE  :  TWO  :  EPILOGUE

By day number four of avoiding Namjoon you knew it was time to relent and at the very least speak to him. Days one through three were spent using your mom's house as a temporary hideout. You knew there was a million questions whirring around in her head at your surprise visit, but you kept quiet, merely stating you wanted a break. She had given you the kind of look that was equal parts disapproving and disappointed, in only the way a mother could combine those expressions. It made you wonder if you made that face too.

Namjoon had called and texted everyday, each time begging you to talk to him. Your fingers would itch over the messages, tempted to just give in. You hated this as much as he did. After finally, finally, getting what you'd wanted for years -  your family whole - it felt like it was slipping through your fingers again.

It was a loss you weren't sure if you could endure again.

Siwoo sat happily on his play mat, toy car in hand while you kept a careful watch on him. He had a tendency to put things in his mouth that didn't belong there, so you made sure to pay attention.

You were extra thankful for him as of late, your ray of sunshine in these dark few days. Though, when he went to bed in the evenings everything hit you the hardest, raw and painful. You'd had such little sleep in the last few days it was a miracle you were functioning as well as you were. Months of sleepless nights when Siwoo was a newborn had trained you well, you supposed.

The tea in your mug had gone cold and it tasted as bitter as you felt. You had gone back and forth several thousand times about whether you were over-reacting or not. The initial knee jerk reaction you have is to run when things get difficult. You'd been that way your entire life, often times to your detriment.

Over the course of your entire relationship with Namjoon that had been a recurring issue. Every argument, every fight, squabble, disagreement or otherwise, you were the one that bailed. The one that needed time to cool off. Which ultimately led to you filing for divorce in the end. Maybe it was time to confront your issues instead of running away from them.

The doorbell rang exactly at four p.m, signalling Namjoon had arrived. He knew the passcode and could easily enter if he so much as wanted to, having done so for the last few months. But you knew Namjoon. This was a way of showing you some respect, showing you he was giving you your space and would wait for you to come to him when you were ready. The same pattern as always.

With a heavy heart you trudge to the door, nursing your still cold tea. When you open the door Namjoon stood on the other side, looking as awful as you felt. "Hi." He said quietly, rubbing a sheepish hand over his unshaven face.

"Hi."

You step to the side, allowing him to cross the threshold into the apartment. A surprised, hesitant look crossed his face but he stepped inside regardless.

"Siwoo is in the living room." You told him, straight to the point. He nodded. After all, that was the reason he was here. You were forced out of your silence because you'd never keep his child from him, no matter how bad things got between you.

You hung back in the kitchen and busied yourself with making another cup of tea that you didn't particularly want. It was just an excuse to hide and you knew it. Coward that you were.

You could hear Siwoo's delight at seeing Namjoon as you waited for the kettle and it made your heart ache. He had missed his dad, having been used to his presence much more. The guilt it caused you plagued you constantly, since you were the reason for the separation.

Namjoon appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, Siwoo perched on his hip. A small smile escaped you at the grin on your son's face as his tiny head rested against Namjoon's chest. He still clutched the toy car.

"I'm all set to go." Namjoon announced. He shifted somewhat awkwardly. "Unless you want to..."

"Not yet." You didn't know exactly what he had in mind but you weren't ready for that talk at this moment in time.

He nodded, looking disappointed. "Will I still see you on Sunday?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't you? You're not keeping Siwoo forever." You knew instantly what you said had been far too harsh and definitely out of line. Namjoon's face flashed with pain. "I don't mean it like it that - " You attempted to explain that you weren't infact referring to your son as an object but you were cut off.

"I thought you might send your mom or Jess or anyone else in the world to do it." He informed you.

"It'll be me on Sunday, Namjoon."

"Can we have dinner then? If not for me, for Siwoo." He asked expectantly. You didn't have the heart to refuse him again, not when he looked at you with that desperate longing in his eyes.

"Okay. Dinner, then."

*** Standing outside Namjoon's extravagant house two days later you felt sick, absolutely sick to your stomach, throw up in a hedge nauseous. The combination of nerves, the secret pregnancy and the fact that the last time you were here was one of the worst days of your life had bile creeping up your throat.

When Namjoon finally answered the door, you hurried past him to the bathroom, muttering something about needing to pee. He could only watch you with a bewildered expression, clearly he'd expected a repeat of the awkward interchange from the other day.

You made it to the toilet just in time, praying he didn't hear the sound of you heaving your guts out over the porcelain. As you borrowed some of his mouthwash and cleaned your hands you debated what lie to feed him. Thankfully it wasn't the morning so you hoped you'd be able to get away with food poisoning as your excuse.

You returned to a worried Namjoon. "Are you ok? I heard you throw up." He asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I think I've just got food poisoning."

He stared at you curiously for a beat. "Do you want to lie down before dinner? It won't be ready for another 45 and I'd rather you felt alright."

You shook your head no. "Thanks Joonie, but I'm okay."

His expression softened at your use of his nickname, he hadn't heard it in a while. You didn't intend to use it but it slipped out so naturally. Especially when he was concerned about you.

The kitchen smelled incredible as you entered. Namjoon didn't cook often being the clumsy chef that he was, opting for takeout usually, sometimes multiple times a day. "What are you making? It smells good. Hi boop." You gave Siwoo a cuddle from behind as he sat in his high chair. He squealed with joy in your arms. "Mommy missed you."

"Lamb curry." Namjoon stated. "And just plain pasta for the kiddo."

"And how much has Seokjin helped you with all this?" You couldn't help but tease. Namjoon smirked.

"Alot." He turned away from you to fuss with the pot on the stove. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Figured you'd appreciate the effort."

You made a non-committal noise as you slotted yourself into the chair next to your child, still feeling a little queasy. It was silent until Siwoo's food was ready when Namjoon offered to feed him for you, but you declined. You were happy to do it. He could mostly feed himself anyway but sometimes needed a little help.

With nothing more to do for the time being Namjoon sat opposite you. You could feel his eyes on you but you deliberately kept your own on Siwoo. "What did you boys get up to then?" You murmured, trying to get Siwoo to eat with his small cutlery and not his hands. "The food is hot Siwoo, use this."

"Nothing too exciting. Mostly swimming, I've got the pool up and running again. That kid is a water baby through and through."

You nodded in agreement, having witnessed it first hand yourself. Ever since he figured out what water was you could barely keep him away from it, essentially making bath time a messy affair. "He especially loves your pool since you got that slide."

"I did it for him."

"I know."

Namjoon stood after a while and went to the cupboard, taking out two wine glasses. He placed one in front of where you sat, setting the other at his side of the table. "I got your favourite sauvigon blanc. The one from the top shelf." He mumbled, corking open the bottle he'd grabbed. "Here."

He began pouring you a glass. "Oh no, no thanks, I'm not dri - Siwoo don't throw your pasta."

Namjoon stopped mid pour, raising his eyebrow at you, ignoring the macaroni that hit the floor. "No wine?"

"My stomach still doesn't feel right." You lied, giving him an apologetic look. "Better avoid the alcohol."

"That's not like you." He paused giving you a curious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just don't want to drink. I'll be driving again soon anyway."

He didn't know that you physically could not and would not touch alcohol due to tiny life that was growing inside you. The tiny life you still didn't know what the fuck you were going to about. Your stomach flipped anxiously.

"Okay." He said staring at you for a little too long. He swapped your slightly filled glass with his empty one. Namjoon poured sparkling water in yours in lieu of the wine. You knew he knew you were lying about something, but he said nothing, still on emotionally shaky ground with you. You wondered if he had anticipated you staying the night to offer you alcohol.

When Siwoo had finished eating and all the pasta had been cleaned from the floor you put him down for a nap. It was cute how sleepy he always got after food and it was nearing his bedtime anyway, heavy eyelids drooping as he sipped on water.

The only evidence that Namjoon even had a child was Siwoo's bedroom, the rest of the house looked like it belonged to a bachelor. As you walked through the vast space you found yourself getting somewhat irrationally angry about the fact. No wonder that girl felt so comfortable here. You found yourself scowling when you sat back at the dining table.

"What?" Namjoon asked, sensing instantly the shift in your mood.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"You're one to talk." You shot back. He sighed.

"Don't be like this just because Siwoo isn't here. Can't we keep being civil?"

"Fine." You mumbled.

He dished the food and you ate in stony silence. The sound of the cutlery scraping on the plates soon became deafening to you, grating on you and worsening your mood. Namjoon had asked you to be civil but that girl hadn't been to you, or to him for that matter and that was the only thing on your mind as you ate. The hormones raging through your body were certainly making you more quick to anger than usual.

"Is it okay?" Namjoon asked, pointing to your plate with a fork. "The food."

"Perfect, thank you." You replied. He looked crestfallen at your curt reply.

"Can we talk properly tonight jagi?" He asked.

"Don't call me that." Instantly you were transported back to the night when this mess started, the night you slept together for the first since breaking up. You'd had almost that exact exchange, although it was a playful one and didn't have the sombre atmosphere his kitchen had.

"All I really need is for you to listen." He sighed. "Can you do that for me?"

You owed it to him at least. "Alright."

He inhaled a deep breath before releasing it slowly, as if he was unsure where to begin. "I didn't cheat on you. I wasn't lying about that. If you take anything away from this conversation, please let it be that." His gaze was so intense you couldn't help but believe him.

"Did she kiss you that day?"

"Yeah." He looked down with a grimace. "I didn't initiate anything, she lunged at me. It was an attack."

"She called you Joonie."

That caught his attention and he looked at you in surprise, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. "That bothered you?" You nodded.

"It didn't feel like a casual hookup, Namjoon. She seemed very familiar with you. She was in your home calling you what me - your wife - calls you." You voice got higher the more emotional you got, tears burning your eyes. Namjoon shushed you gently, telling you to calm down. "And then there was the other girl from the pictures. What do you do to these women to make them think this behaviour is ok?"

Namjoon gave you an infuriatingly blank look. "That was the girl I was papped with."

"No it wasn't." You sniffed.

"Baby," He huffed an incredulous but humourless laugh. "I promise you. Crazy girl from the photos is crazy girl that was here. Those pictures were dark, you probably just didn't recognise her."

"Why does she keep showing up?"

"We did hook up, but once a long time ago. I made the mistake of taking her home. I saw her once after that, but we didn't have sex. Other stuff happened, I won't lie."

You felt uncomfortable, hot, prickly jealousy constricting in your chest. "I don't need details."

"I don't really remember it to be honest. I was wasted." He explained further. "She turned out to be a big fan of mine and was - is - having a hard time dealing with the fact that I don't want her. That's it. That's the story. I swear."

You searched his eyes with your own for a few moments and he held your steely gaze.

"You could get a restraining order." You grumbled.

"They're not as easy to get as you think."

You crossed your arms and looked away. Although you believed every word he said you still weren't happy. Maybe it would take more than a conversation this time.

"Anything else you want to know, just ask." Namjoon told you softly. His hand twitched on the table and you could tell he wanted to reach for yours. "I'm an open book."

You knew exactly what was niggling at your conscious. "What else have you lied about?"

He paused for a moment and your heart dropped, anticipating the absolute worst. "I once jerked off to a picture of your feet."

Your scandalized expression was enough to have him laughing, easing some of the tension in the room. "I'm serious!" You scolded.

"So am I." He smirked and you rolled your eyes. "I'm sorry baby, I just wanted to see you smile."

"You're ridiculous."

He stood and walked round the table, taking your hand in his forcing you to stand. He pulled you into a hug and your arms automatically wrapped around his waist. "Am I forgiven?" He mumbled into your hair.

"No." You said but your body contradicted your words, melting even further in to him. "I'm still angry at you for lying and nearly dying of an overdose too. It's scary to think you can keep such things from me. I'm waiting for the next lie now Joonie."

He squeezed you tighter. "I understand, I do, but does a tiny part of you not see why I would hide those things from you? It was to stop you from getting hurt."

"I guess."  You know he has a point and you do feel better for having this talk with him but jumping back to fully trusting him feels frightening. You hate being vulnerable and right now, that's what you are.

"All I want is for us to be together, and whatever you need me to do to get us there, I'll do it." He said with strong conviction.

You surprised him by standing on your tiptoes and pecking his lips, his eyes remained open in shock. "You're a good man, Namjoon. I'm lucky I have you." He smiled. "But if you ever lie to me again, I swear to god I'm done."

"Never." He swore.

***

It took three more nights of intense conversations with Namjoon before your relationship started to return to normal. Getting everything out in the open was a little painful for your both but once everything that had happened during your separation was no longer shrouded in darkness, you felt better. You both did.

Namjoon had bravely opened up about how he struggled with pills and drugs. You'd learned he'd been partying a scary amount and that's where he met 'crazy girl'. Apparently she was a big party girl and drug user herself, which made sense, considering her erratic behaviour. She was an amateur model and had access to a lot of free drugs, so Namjoon was unfortunately drawn to her.

It wasn't exactly easy nor fun to hear about the women that he'd been with. It was with an embarrassed flush to his cheeks that he admitted a lot of his hook ups had been a blur of nameless faces. He wasn't proud of it, he'd never been a guy who fucked around, even before you met.

You were surprised to learn he'd spent time in rehab. Mostly it was just therapy but it allowed him to be in a better state mentally and therefore able to cope. Namjoon had got teary when you told him that you were proud of him. It wasn't easier to better yourself and succeed. He told you it was all for Siwoo and you understood that fierce protective desire completely.

During the third night, when you lay in Namjoon's bed, each on your side and facing each other you realised it was time to come clean about your secret now. You squeezed your entwined hands that lay on the pillow between your heads. "Namjoon, in the spirit of being honest...I need to tell you something."

"What is it jagi?" His brow furrowed at your tone.

You gulped. "I'm pregnant." He was silent and his expression never changed, which immediately worried you. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner but I was going to do something cute by just giving you the sonogram instead of doing it in this lame way, but -

" - That's amazing." He interrupted your nervous rambling. A grin started to spread on his face.

"Really?" You asked cautiously.

"Are you joking? It's fucking great news!" He exclaimed. Namjoon let go of your hand and quickly placed his large palm on your lower stomach. "How far along?"

"Only 9 weeks." You playfully shoved his hand off of you. "You won't be able to feel anything yet." You laughed.

"I'm excited. I knew something was up when you weren't drinking and throwing up." He admitted. "It's going to be so different this time round. So much less stress and worry. We can actually enjoy your pregnancy."

"I'm excited that you're excited." You said. "I was scared to tell you. After everything we went through..."

"It's going to be different this time." He repeated. He kissed you passionately, lips crashing against yours as if he was trying to show you just how much he meant his words. Arms snaked around your torso as he held you close. "We're going to have two kids soon." He murmured. "Are you ready for this?"

"Nope." You laughed and he joined you. "But I wasn't ready the first time and we managed."

This time when he kissed you, you could feel him smile against your lips. "This feels like a dream. I'm so happy." He managed to get out in between presses of his mouth against yours. You were elated. "Can't wait to see you pregnant again."

"You mean, fat." You corrected.

"Noooo," He groaned, frustrated. "You looked so sexy when you were pregnant before." His hands slid underneath your shirt, along your stomach to cup and squeeze at your breasts. "You had big ass boobies." You can't help but laugh, he was like a horny teenager when it came to boobs. "Filled with milk for my baby."

His thumbs brushed against your nipples and you stiffened at the sensation. He kept repeating the action and you could feel a dull ache in your core at the sensation. "s'feels good." You murmured, trying to concentrate.

"Yeah?" He pulled back a little to gauge your expression. "Can I keep going?"

You nodded, appreciating the fact that he was asking for permission since you hadn't slept together since your argument. He peeled your shirt from your body and leaned down to plant kisses all over your breasts, thankful you weren't wearing a bra to bed. A dreamy sigh escaped you as your hands carded through his hair.

"D'you know what else I liked about you being pregnant?" He said huskily, still fondling you.

"Tell me." You had felt insecure at the time, and had been feeling it again after seeing the model you knew Namjoon had slept with. Some reassurance would be welcome.

"You were swollen in all the right places." The heel of his palm began to grind down slowly against your panties, having worn only those and a shirt to bed. Namjoon's lips wrapped around a nipple and your pussy pulsed in response. "The curve of your stomach, hips and ass was so fucking sexy."

"Really?"

"Mhmm," He hummed and your underwear was moved to the side. "It was sexy because you looked like a woman. Not just a hot girl." His fingers moved in slow circles against your clit and you feel yourself growing wet especially fast. "And you were off-limits to any other man than me. I put my baby in you and every other man could see it."

"Fuck, Joonie." You whimpered after he hit one particularly sensitive spot, hips jolting slightly. "I didn't know you had a pregnancy kink."

He smirked against your skin, his breath fanning across as he laughed a little. "Me neither, until I saw you."

Briefly he stopped to pull the remnants of your clothing off leaving you fully naked. "Namjoon?" You asked hesitantly, feeling shy. He hummed in response, sliding his fingers into your wet heat once more. Something had been playing on your mind this entire time. "That girl was beautiful."

He groaned. This time it wasn't a sexy groan. "Don't talk about her when I'm touching you like this."

"I keep thinking about her. She's prettier than me." You admitted. He stopped what he was doing, gripping the bottom of your chin, forcing you to face him when you tried to hide the fact that tears were welling in your eyes.

"She's nuts."

"You didn't disagree with me." You pouted. He sighed. "I'm feeling really insecure right now. I'm about to have another kid and my body is going to be wrecked, again. And girls like that are incessantly throwing themselves at you."

"I don't think she was prettier than you. And even if I did, who cares? She isn't beautiful where it counts. I just told you how sexy I think you are and you still don't believe me." He looked sad, it made you feel guilty.

"Sorry I'm being stupid." You mumbled.

"Don't be afraid to tell me when you're feeling like this, I don't want you to feel bad while I'm trying to make you feel good." He insisted. "Just remember that what I feel for you is so much more than how you look. But you're sexy, you're pretty, you're kind and you're an amazing mom. I'm so attracted to you that I'm still hard even through all this just because I'm near you and you're naked." He laughed, guiding your hand to his crotch for emphasis. He wasn't totally hard but that was an erection if you ever felt one.

"I love you so much." You told him sniffling. "Sorry for being a moodkiller. I'm hormonal and emotional right now."

"Tell me about it." He teased. "Can we carry on or are you out of it completely?"

You answered him with a kiss.

He took his time with you that night and you knew that extra effort came entirely from a place of pure, authentic and true love in his heart. Namjoon ate you out until you were a mess beneath him, able to coax two orgasms out of you before agonizingly pushing his stiff length into you.

Whispered praise in your ear made you feel desired in a way like you hadn't experienced before. He cradled you as he fucked into you, encouraging you to keep your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked around his lean body.

"Don't think I could never want you, especially like this." He breathed into your ear, slowly pounding into you. "You're the love of my life."

"Joon..." You moaned, tears stinging your eyes, leaking onto the pillow. You were too emotional right now for sex like this. "Please." You begged.

"Tell me you love me, tell me how good I'm making you feel." He commanded as his hips slapped into you faster this time. All you could think about was his bare skin against yours while you clung to him as if your life depended on it. Every drag of his cock inside you felt like you were made for him.

"I do, I love you so much." You moaned. "You're perfect. No one has ever made me feel like this."

When he came he groaned loud enough that you were certain he woke the sleeping child in the next room.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the pitter patter of tiny feet echoed down the hall. Namjoon leapt away from you so fast, he tangled himself in the sheets and fell over, emitting a loud curse word.

Once Siwoo had been successfully put back to bed (and escaping unscarred, having seen nothing a three year old shouldn't witness) you and Namjoon stifled silent giggles. "I guess I enjoyed that a little too much." He laughed, getting comfortable to sleep.

"Top 5?" You asked, climbing into bed beside him. It was a running joke between you about your favourite sexy time moments. You don't remember when it started and it's hard to remember every single time but there are definitely some stand out moments.

"Top 10." He yawned. "It would be higher up, but I hit my shin pretty hard when I tripped."

"I love you, you clumsy idiot." You whispered, kissing him on the nose.

"I love you too baby."

***

You loved how Siwoo looked in his father's arms. Really, you should gently remove him from the tight embrace Namjoon held him in so he could sleep properly but the sight of the two asleep on the sofa was turning you to mush. They both slept with their mouths hanging open in the exact same way, the only difference was Namjoon snored lightly.

You couldn't resist and snapped a few pictures.

As you watched them you were glad you couldn't move on whilst you were technically single. Even a small part of you regretted attempting to even be with anyone else when this was the only man you wanted right here.

You thought of Mark and the other two guys you'd dated and how empty you had felt, how you'd had to force feelings most of the time. Actions speak louder than words and the fact that neither of you had been able to get close to moving on spoke volumes.

Namjoon was home and always had been.

***

Early pregnancy was a lot more tiring than you remembered this time around. With Siwoo, you'd been relatively lucky and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. New baby was not giving you an easy ride. You'd convinced an overbearingly concerned Namjoon you were well enough to go for a walk but the five times he'd already asked if you were alright showed his worry.

His hand laced through yours as you strolled through a park near your home. It had a beautiful selection of cherry blossom trees, a long time favourite spot of yours. It was his suggestion to get some fresh air after morning sickness had claimed the first half of your day.

The occasional stray blossom petals floated through the air, giving the worn path a story book feel. Even though you weren't 100% you were glad you'd made the choice to go outside, the fresh air smelt sweet and calming.

"Jagi, I've been thinking." Namjoon announced, opting to sling an arm over your shoulder instead. You realised it was the first time he had ever been able to be affectionate with you in a public space. You leaned in closer to his side.

"Do tell."

"Let's have a wedding."

You looked up at him, perplexed. His gaze remained straight ahead. "We had one. You should remember, you were there."

"That wasn't a wedding, that was standing in an office." He corrected with a scoff. "What I'm trying to say is lets have a big celebration. One all our friends can come to. Would you like that?"

"Maybe? I don't know. I've never thought about it." You mused. "That could be fun."

"I thought it could be like an official fresh start. We never had the chance to do it like everyone else." He shrugged. "Only if you want to though, baby."

"I think I want to." You smiled. Namjoon hummed a good, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. You carried on in a comfortable silence.

"One more thing," He said after a few moments. "You need this back."

A hand slipped into his pocket and out came a small jewellery box. Without having to peek inside you already know what it contains. The ring you had given back in a fit of anger nearly a few weeks ago. He flicked the box open and offered it to you. "You're not going to get down on one knee?" You joked. He rolled his eyes.

Willingly you accepted it from him and put on the ring. "I had it cleaned for you."

You admired the silver that adorned your hand for a moment before handing him back the box. "Thank you."

The two of you didn't talk much more as you finished your route through the park. You didn't need to. Everything he'd done for you (and not just today) had said enough.

***

"Siwoo, I have told you to pick up these toys five times now!" You yelled down the hallway, exasperated by your seven year old's will to ignore simple instructions. After escaping the infamous terrible two's with him you noticed he was barrelling to being a defiant child. You raised your voice a lot more these days. "Don't make me tell you again!"

You knew it was futile by the distracted Yes Mom that he replied with. You instantly could tell he was either playing video games or on youtube, both his new favourite pass times. As you attempted to grab a ready made bottle, a loud smash came from the living room and you hurried through, worry clenching your chest.

"Oh baby girl..." You cooed once you'd noticed what had caused the noise. Your two year old, who was just figuring out that she could walk had accidentally smashed a picture frame when she'd tried to use the coffee table for balance. "I left you alone for half a second and you're trashing the place." You sighed to her.

Quickly you checked her over, ensuring she was unharmed. She was. Gently, you slung her over your hip, this time taking her to the kitchen with you. She struggled the entire time, eager to get back to her new found freedom of walking. However as soon as she realised she was getting fed, her mind was quickly changed.

The sound of Namjoon arriving home caught your attention. You were glad he was home. As much as you loved your children, an entire day alone with them was harder than any job you'd ever worked. You were still between nanny's and were picking the slack up yourself.

"There's my girls." You could hear the smile in his voice before you saw it. Namjoon reclined in the doorway, watching you and Eunha, an enamoured look on his face. He crossed the room, kissing her first on the cheek before meeting your lips in a peck. "Where's Siwoo?"

"Bedroom," You sighed. "Tell him to get his toys please." Namjoon nodded, able to read your frustration straight away as his phone and keys where placed on the kitchen counter. He left to do what you'd asked of him.

Once you'd managed to get Eunha down for bed, you joined Namjoon and Siwoo who were picking the toys up together. You picked up the smashed picture frame that you'd momentarily forgotten about, smiling at the image. It was an official photo from your 'second' wedding, you and your husband smiling like lovesick kids with Siwoo between you, looking adorable in his tiny suit.

It had been a wonderful day, being able to celebrate properly with your loved ones. The day had been a blur, but the best kind of blur; ending it with sore cheeks from smiling so much.

"What's that?"

Namjoon's question brought you back to the present. You flipped the picture frame round to show him it was broken. "Courtesy of Eunha on one of her missions."

"You look so pretty in that picture Jagiya." Namjoon stretched over and kissed your cheek. Neither of you missed how Siwoo's face screwed up in disgust at the sight of his parents kissing. A knowing smirk was shared between you and your husband.

"Thank you for that boop!" You kissed your son's head when he was finished the task. It was frightening how tall he was getting, you suspected he would be taller than Namjoon when he was older. He trudged back to his room grumbling about how he was too old to kiss his mom. You couldn't help but laugh.

Namjoon wrapped his arms around you as soon as you were alone, kissing you properly this time. "How was your day?" He asked quietly against your lips.

"Long." You sighed, resting your head on his chest. "You?"

"Busy."

Lately he had been putting in more and more hours at the recently expanded studio. Ever since Yoongi had started a family of his own they'd even hired an entire crew of people. Things couldn't be better for your husband's career and you were more than thankful how lucky the two of you had been.

His hand stroked the back of your hair lovingly. "The best part of my day is coming home." He yawned, holding you tight. You hummed in agreement, that was the highlight of your day as well. Ten years total together and that had never changed.

Not one moment was taken for granted anymore and when all was said and done, you knew you would be with him, always.

MASTERLIST

[mcustorm]

45 M/M Gay Movies, Ranked

The other day I bit the bullet and decided to watch Brokeback Mountain for the first time. All I knew about that movie was that it was basically the CMBYN of yesteryear and somebody got killed with a tire iron. Anyways, so I finish the movie and realize that I’ve seen a *lot* of gay movies, especially in the last couple of years. So here are my rankings according to nothing but my personal preference. I won’t write about all of them, but you can ask about something if I leave it out.

I wish I could give you a rubric for this. The reality is, there are some radically different movies on this list with different tones and intentions. There’s buddy comedies, tearjerkers, small indie features, big theater releases. So trying to rank them all is TUFF.

The Way He Looks - Such a beautiful coming-of-age movie. Maybe the 2nd one I saw on this list? Perfect length, perfect characterization, simple yet compelling, clever. And nothing feels better than reaching a happy ending (for once, because some of these movies’ endings-- SHEESH) that’s been earned. It just hasn’t been topped.

2. God’s Own Country

3. Pride

4. Kanarie - Yea, we don’t talk about this movie enough. It’s one of the most recent that I’ve seen. Beautiful. The way that it references apartheid and the war to reflect the protagonist’s feelings? Flawless.

5. Jongens - The first movie that I saw on this list, gets many a bonus point for that.

6. Moonlight - Yes, I am black. Yes, I understand this movie may be too low. Moonlight kind of scares me. In general, there’s not nearly enough discourse surrounding this one for me. But while it’s not exactly a popcorn-muncher, to me it’s the most personal movie on the list. When I look at Chiron and all that he’s been through, I can’t help but draw parallels to my own story up to this point. It holds a mirror up to me in a way that no other movie on this list does. That makes me uncomfortable.

But it is so poetic. Have you guys seen the script for this? The directing, the SOUNDTRACK, the acting. Phenomenal. 

7. Weekend

8. Call Me By Your Name - Yes, I am aware of people’s beef with this one. Yes, I understand a lot of people may feel this one is overrated. While I do think this one gets worse on rewatch, the truth is, it’s not really *that* overrated because hot take: most (meaning over half) of the movies on this list range somewhere from “just okay” to “painstakingly bad”.

It’s the score, the cinematography, the subtext in most all of the dialogue, the acting, the way that you can smell the apricots through the fucking screen. People who say this movie is a vacation ad are fucking CORRECT. One of my biggest gripes however is that it’s too fucking long. And uh, that age difference...

And Armie Hammer’s a weirdo...

9. Dating Amber* - Dating Amber has one of those “Duh” premises that sounds like it could’ve been done like 30 times before yet I can’t think of any other examples of it. So what you’d think would be a wacky premise actually turns out to be a frankly poignant movie with an emotional story arc for the main two characters.

10. Hello Stranger: The Movie* - This movie, which is the first sequel (sorta) on the list, frankly had no business being as good as it was. Even though the web series is required viewing, I felt the movie fixed like all of the series’ issues: pacing, lack of compelling drama, the awkward quarantine format. The drama and stakes are there without us having to visit Angst City. And the theme and the ending reprise is HEAT.

11. Uncle Frank* -  Uncle Frank is like The Help of gay movies. Like The Help, it’s *overall* a short, sweet and fluffy movie set decades ago. Like The Help, you’ll still come out of it feeling pretty good even though it has some dark moments. Also like The Help, you’ll wonder after the fact if the central white girl absolutely needed to be so...well, central for this story to be told. Bonus points for Paul Bettany and Character Actress Margo Martindale.

12. Brokeback Mountain - Tragic.

13. Moffie - Set during the South African border war, same as Kanarie. You even hear the word “moffie” throughout Kanarie. Anyways, this is a war movie for the gays, and a very intense watch. I liked that it was a much more realistic view of what a soldier endured during that period, and of course on the flip side I thought it was more thorough in its depiction of the rampant racism. I gotta find a good book on this era.

14. A Moment In the Reeds

15. Get Real - Maybe the most out of place movie on the list. I need to rewatch it. I do recall absolutely loving the score, however. Like, I fucks with this:

16. Freier Fall - When I finished Brokeback I was like, “Wait, wasn’t that just Free Fall with extra steps?” And yea, it kinda is. But even discount Brokeback is still pretty good.

17. Beautiful Thing - There are few things to like about this one, the relationship between the two guys, the mother’s love for her son even though it’s not all rainbows, that nice little final scene. I did not care for the dark-skinned woman being portrayed as, you know, the drug abusing, school dropout, gossipy, butt of jokes neighbor. But that guy really looks like Tom Holland tho.

18. Love, Simon - It’s at this point that I move from “Yea, that movie is good, you should watch it!” to “Look, you may like it, you may not.”

19. The 10 Year Plan - This movie is so fucking cheesy that there was cheddar coming though my speakers. But when I think of “Hallmark/Lifetime, but for the gays” this is the crown jewel. There’s some other movies on this list that could’ve taken some notes.

20. The Christmas Setup* - The trend of fluffy-white-gay-cable-network-movie continues and in good form. It’s not deep. It’s not really thought provoking. It’s cute. Fran Drescher is there. You should watch it.

21. Giant Little Ones

22. Hidden Kisses

23. Alex Strangelove - In a unique twist, the emotional core of this one is arguably between Alex and his girlfriend. All that ends up happening, however, is we the viewer keep wanting more Alex/Elliott scenes; those are the most electric in the whole movie. The end result is a hot yet endearing mess.

24. Fair Haven

25. The Thing About Harry - Freeform’s attempt at making a cheesy rom-com for the gays. It’s...okay. I personally feel like the main character’s friend is highkey trifling but it’s whatever.

26. Your Name Engraved Herein* - So I guess I’ve decided I officially hate angst. I mean, I get how it’s often necessary to tell an effective story, but I’m just not here for 2 hour indie angst fests that get passed off as “high art” anymore. I cannot do it. Somehow this is Brokeback’s fault...there just has to be a better way to tell gay stories in the 2020′s. Anyways, the last song was fuego.

27. The Perfect Wedding - Easily the most bizarre movie on this list. It’s so bad, I liked it a lot.

28. Naz and Maalik - The first half of the movie with the two leads just riffing is some pretty great stuff. The back half starts throwing plot developments that are just less than interesting.

29. My Best Friend

30. The Curiosity of Chance

31. Being 17 - Boring. Angsty.

32. And Then We Danced

33. Center of My World - Has some of the most trifling characters EVER. I was so angry. This movie for me has *0* rewatchability.

34. Just Friends

35. 4th Man Out - This movie was basically “a bro/Hangover-style movie, but for the gays.” I absolutely love the intention, but the execution was a little shoddy. One day we’re gonna get a flawless movie that nails what this movie was going for. I hope we remember this movie whenever that day comes.

36. Latter Days - So fucking preachy. 

37. GBF - Another bizarre one, but at least this movie gets how wacky it is.

38. Beach Rats

39. Shelter - I’ve noticed a lot of people like this one. To that I say...yikes. Remember that scene from Family Guy where Peter says he doesn’t care for The Godfather? I did not care for Shelter. It insists upon itself (not really, but still).

40. Handsome Devil

41. Esteros - It’s at this point of the list that we shift from “Movies that are the definition of ‘ight’ “ to “These movies are bad. Bad. BAAAAAD.”

42. Monster Pies

43. Were the World Mine - I couldn’t even finish it. Wanna watch a better musical? Go watch Kanarie. Wanna watch a better Shakespeare adaptation? The Lion King is the movie for you, or even fucking She’s the Man.

44. North Sea Texas - So boring. I actually think this one may need a rewatch, because I swear it shouldn’t have been as terrible as it was.

45. Salvation Army - I have no idea what this movie was going for. I understand that it is autobiographical, however...it simultaneously barely has any plot or character developments. This one has shades of Beach Rats, but it’s significantly worse, and I didn’t even like Beach Rats that much.

So that’s it, thanks if you made it down this far. I guess I’ll update the list as I inevitably watch more of these. I would love movie recommendations!