#I suppose it was probably because I was simply moping about huh

[unma]

In relation to the tags on the post about my birthday: I wonder if its normal to be unable to remember what happened on your birthday two years ago or before that. I guess if I looked at the dates and check when I graduated from secondary school (the first time) I could remember a few things, but I'm beginning to remember my memory is real spotty.

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

[cinnamon-roll-seth]

Not Good For You (Part Two) || JJ Maybank

- Part One

Two weeks after you and JJ’s break up you attend a party with the intentions of getting over him but he has other plans.

It had been two weeks since your breakup with JJ and although it killed you inside you’d stayed a far distance away from not only him but the rest of the crew as well.

You didn’t intend to push them away, especially not Kie whom you’d known your whole life, but you couldn’t help but think about what JJ had said. Of course they’d choose him, he’s a pogue. You’re a kook, you don’t have any business being friends with any of them.

Your father was practically throwing a party at the expense of your feelings. He was hardly around, he didn’t see how deeply the break up had affected you. Your mother, on the other hand, was worried for you.

You wouldn’t leave the house, spending hours a day simply moping around the halls. You also quieter than usual. You had your issues with your family, and truthfully they hadn’t seen you much in the past few years since you’d become friends with the pogues, but when you were around them you were usually happy and talkative. Now you’d hardly said a word in days and looked like nothing but an empty shell of her daughter.

JJ hadn’t been doing too well either. He was angry and withdrawn. The others had never seen him this way before, not even after the multiple times he’d gotten beaten senseless by his father. That night after you stormed off he’d told them about the talk he’d had with your father.

They all told him that he was an idiot for letting your dad’s words get to him and begged him to go to your house and make things right, but he stood his ground even though every part of him wanted to listen to them.

JJ felt guilty watching them miss you. The five of you had spent practically all everyday all day together for the last couple years and although he’d been the one actually dating you the breakup was hitting them just as hard as it was hitting him. He could tell they didn’t want to bring it up much for fear of upsetting him.

Three days after that night the four of them had woken up after a night of nearly no sleep. John B had yawned before saying, “Ugh I wish Y/N was here. She makes the best coffee.”

Upon seeing the hurt on JJ’s face he’d apologized and they’d all tried their hardest not to mention her since.

They all were currently laying around the chateau in silence when suddenly John B speaks, “You know what, I’m sick of this. I’m sick of being all sad and depressed because of...” He trails off but the others already knew what he was going to say, “We should throw a party.”

“A party? John B do you really think that’s a good idea?” Kie asks, running a hand through her hair.

“Think about it guys! I mean, back in the day there was nothing that a good old kegger couldn’t fix, remember?” It was silent for a moment while they all soaked up his words.

“I’m down,” Pope shrugs and Kiara nods as they all look towards JJ.

“JJ? You in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe count me out on this one?” The blonde boy replies and the other three groan.

“Oh come on JJ. You never used to turn down a party! And besides, maybe you’ll meet somebody and move on from-“ Pope stops talking as Kie harshly elbows him and turns to glare at her.

They all stare at JJ as he thinks it over and finally sighs, “Sure, yeah.”

Kie and Pope cheer as John B smiles, “Great, it’s a plan then.”

—

“Y/N do you still have that diamond hairpin that I let you borrow a few months ago?” Your mother asked as you watched her get ready for a party her and your father were going to.

“Um maybe?” You responded, knowing damn well you gave it to JJ to pawn off.

“Well can you go check your room for it please? It would really help out my outfit.” She pleads and you sigh.

“Yeah, I guess.” You walk out of your parents’ room in across the hall into your own, nearly screaming when you realize somebody is already sitting on your bed waiting for you, “Jesus Kie, you scared me! What are you doing here?”

“Y/N we miss you. All of us do, we’ve all been struggling with loosing you, especially JJ,” She whispers the last part but you hear it anyway and shake your head.

“Kie if you’re here to try to fix things between me and JJ then you should probably just leave. He told me exactly how he feels and trust me when I say that he is not interested in getting back together so please just stay out of it.”

Kiara’s heart sinks and she’s tempted to tell you the truth about why JJ said those things instead she shakes her head, “No no, Y/N. That’s not why I came. I- we’re having a kegger tonight on the beach. Please come, I miss my best friend.” She pleads.

“I don’t know Kie. Watching JJ flirt with and be all over other girls knowing I’m not over him doesn’t really sound like my cup of tea.”

“I doubt he’ll be doing that. Besides the beach is huge, you don’t even have to see him if you don’t want too!” She insists.

“And what about the other boys, what do they think about it?” You ask wearily.

“They don’t even know I’m here but I know they’d be so happy if you came. They miss the hell out of you Y/N. It’s not the same without you there.”

She stares at you for a moment while you think. You have missed them and going would probably get your mom off your back. But what about JJ, you know your heart isn’t ready to see him again. You know what, screw JJ. Like Kie said, the beach is big enough and there will probably be enough people there that you won’t even have to see him.

You sigh and nod, “Yeah sure, I’ll go. But if I see even a glimpse of JJ I’m out.”

—

“Damn it Kie, we’ve been looking for you all- Y/N!” John B yells when he sees you walking behind Kiara and you laugh as he runs forward and picks you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“Hey JB,” You smile, moving to hug Pope as well.

“Where the hell have you been?! We’ve missed you!” Pope asks after you pull away.

“The land of the dead,” You laugh, referring to your house but also referring to your mental state the past two weeks, “But in case you were wondering I’ve missed you idiots too...I suppose” You add at the end, jumping away as John B attempts to punch you playfully in the shoulder.

“Don’t ever disappear like that for that long ever again.” Pope says softly and you look at the ground, feeling guilty.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. We understand that you needed some time.” Kie reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. You look up and smile at her weakly.

“Yeah well I’m over being sad. Now if somebody doesn’t get me a beer right now I’m leaving,” You smirk and they all laugh.

“Yes your highness,” John B bows playfully and runs off towards the keg.

—

“And that’s when he said ‘just yank the damn thing out!’ Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard him say,” The kids around you laugh as you tell them the story of when John B stepped on a fishing hook, chugging down the rest of your sixth (or seventh?) beer.

As the night had progressed you surprisingly hadn’t seen JJ and you were relieved for that, instead inserting yourself into a group of tourons that were already wasted and would probably pass out on the beach, unable to navigate the way back to their hotel.

You were also quite tipsy, just enough to have that extra courage to do things you normally wouldn’t, which is why you currently stood wrapped up in the arms of some random touron that you didn’t bother learning the name of.

The kids around you began a new conversation and you turned and stood on your tip toes, leaning in to the boy’s ear, “I’m going to get another beer and then you should take me back to your hotel.”

He nodded, eyes going wide, and you wink before walking over towards the keg. You fill your cup to the brim and head back to the group, waving at Kie with a smile as you pass her talking to one of her coworkers at The Wreck. You’re nearly back to the group of tourists when the voice you were hoping you wouldn’t hear tonight calls out your name.

You ignore him and keep walking but he follows and grabs your wrist, gaining the attention of the tourons near you, “Y/N can we talk?”

“Oh hey JJ. Guys, this is my ex-boyfriend, JJ. He broke up with me because I’m rich.” You say sarcastically, taking a sip of your beer.

“That’s not why. Y/N please, I need to talk to you, in private.” He pleads and you shake your head.

“Isn’t it though? You broke up with me because you were afraid of ‘dragging me down to your level’ and ‘ruining my hopes and dreams’, because apparently you think I’m only capable of being happy if I’m rich right? So yeah, essentially you did break up with me because I’m rich and your not. Or was it the fact that I’m too clingy and pathetic? What, did you come to tell me? That I need to move on because you haven’t loved me for a long time? Well sorry JJ but for once in my life I don’t give a shit what you’re about to say next so can you leave? I was doing just fine having fun over until you had to come ruin it. Jesus, you really don’t want me to move on and be happy. Who’s the pathetic one now.” You snap as everyone around you ‘oohs’ and you hear one of them say ‘damn bro, she told you’.

“God damn it Y/N. Of course I want you to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I- I didn’t mean anything I said that night. Please just let me explain.” JJ says again.

You hadn’t seen him tonight but he’d seen you. He’d watched from afar as you talked and laughed and when he saw you in the arms of that boy his heart broke even more. He couldn’t stand seeing you with someone who wasn’t him and with that he finally decided to tell you the truth.

Finally you roll your eyes, “You have ten minutes to explain yourself.” He tries not to smile in triumph and nods, pulling you away to a quiet spot, away from people.

“The night of Midsummers I had every intention of finding you Y/N. I wanted nothing more then to find you and have you in my arms. As I was looking for Sarah, to give her John B’s note, I ran into your dad-“ You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Of course my father has something to do with this. What did he say, huh? Did he tell you how dirty and poor you are and how much he hates you and doesn’t like you? Yeah he told me that same thing multiple times JJ but I didn’t break up with you because of it.”

“Yeah he started out with that. And I told him that I wouldn’t break up with you. But then he started talking about how being with me would ruin your life and how one day I’d get into trouble and drag you down with me and you’d have to give up your dreams.”

“And did you ever once stop and think about what those dreams were? Or did you just automatically assume? Just because I’m a kook did you think my main goal in life is to go to a fancy college, marry a handsome rich man, and have some spoiled little rich kids running around?” You ask angrily.

“No! No of course not. I- to be honest I don’t know what I thought.” He admits sheepishly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah well you wanna hear my dreams for my future? The ones you were so worried that you would ruin? JJ when I think about the future I dream about having more adventures with you and the others. I dream about us getting married out in the middle of the water on the HMS Pogue with the people we love most watching, one of them can get ordained to perform the ceremony, I don’t care who. I dream about finding a cute little house close to the water that we can call home, like the chateau, some place where our children and their friends can hang out and call home. I dream about having a bunch of little mini JJ’s and mini Y/N’s running around, probably having to break up a few fights if they have a temper anything like their father’s. I dream about growing old with you and watching our grandchildren grow up and have their own adventures just like we did and our kids will after us. Or so I thought. Funny how you broke up with me because you were so worried about ruining my dreams but you breaking up with me is the thing that ruined them huh?” You laugh humorlessly.

“Y/N I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, I know that. I know that I was wrong for what I did and what I said. But Y/N I can’t live without you. These past two weeks have been hell without you and I just want you back. I’m done listening to what other people think I swear.” He replies softly.

“I thought you fell out of love with me? Yeah because I’m too clingy.”

He shakes his head furiously, “That was a lie. I only said it to push you away, like you accused me of when I said it in the first place.”

“You called me pathetic JJ. You told me that you felt bad because I have no other friends and that you knew the pogues would choose you over me because you’re a pogue and I’m a kook.” You reply softly, more hurt now than angry.

“No. No you’re not Y/N. You might have a kook family and live in a kook house on the kook side of the island but you are a pogue. You’ve always been a pogue and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner-“

“You’re an idiot for a lot of things.” I laugh softly and he returns it.

“Yeah I guess I am. My point though, Y/N, is that you are a pogue. In fact the pogues aren’t the pogues without you. Nothing Is right without you. You do have friends, we are your friends. Nothing will change that. Even if you don’t forgive me right away or at all, even if you don’t want to take me back. I don’t care what happens as long as you’re in my life because without you nothing is the same.” Your face softens as you see a tear rolling down his cheek and reach forward to wipe it away.

You stay leaned in, just staring into those blue eyes that you love so much, the same ones that have caused you so much pain in the past to weeks. Finally you sigh and whisper, “Of course I forgive you. My dad got in your head, that’s not your fault. And I’ll admit I am a little stubborn.”

He smiles, “Does at mean?”

“Kiss me you idiot,” You laugh and obeys, cupping your cheek softly as he leans in and kisses you sweetly. After he pulls away he just rests his forehead against yours for a moment, soaking up as much affection as he can after missing it for two weeks.

“You didn’t address the pathetic comment,” You joke, pulling away and he laughs, standing up and offering you his hand.

“I say we go find out friends, yeah?” You take his hand and nod.

“Hey I thought you wanted to go back to my hotel?” The boy from earlier calls out as you two walk past.

“Sorry bro, she’s mine. Hey, maybe you should talk to your friend over there though, she’s been staring at you all night!” JJ calls and you laugh as he pulls you towards the pogues who are now grouped together around a fire.

“Hey! I see you two made up. Did dumbass here finally listen to us and tell you the truth?” Kie yells jokingly as the two of you sit down on a log across from her.

“He did and I’m not letting him take ‘advice’ from my father, or anyone, ever again.” You answer, curling into his side.

“I don’t plan on it. I promise, I’m never leaving you again. What do you say about making your dreams a reality?”

You smile as he wraps his arm around you, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

So here it is, the end 🥺 I hope it did part one some justice and fixed your broken hearts. Can I just take a minute to tell you all how shocked I was when part one blew up? I did not expect it to get that much attention but I’m so happy it did. Ever since I posted it I’ve been reading all of your comments and it makes my heart so happy so thank you 💕 I’ll be writing more soon so if you liked my writing then be on the lookout for that 😉

Taglist- @itsskythoo @rudyypankow @downbytheouterbanks @obxlife @justsomegirlontheinternet @alltimekp @starkeybaby @timotaychalabae @fernweh-fangirl @howdyherron @mavelfanatic @hotel-colson @yeehaw87 @sofiluvschu (I hope I didn’t forget anybody!)

[wonder-womans-ex]

Curtain Call

Act One, Scene Seven

Sirius stands there for what seems like hours—though it’s probably only a few seconds—just standing there, staring through the window. Maybe he should forget the whole thing and leave now.  

But Alice pushes the door open, waving when Remus and Lily look up. Before he can protest, Dorcas pulls him in by the elbow. 

It’s like time slows down when Remus’s gaze flickers past Dorcas and settles on him. He blinks, as though trying to clear his vision, and then he does the last thing Sirius expects. 

He smiles. 

It’s like Sirius’s brain just glitches. He imagines James’s voice in his head—as he so often does when he’s faced with situations similar to this one—saying ‘Padfoot.exe. has stopped working,’ and the thought is so ridiculous it actually shocks him back into the here and now. 

“This is Sirius,” says Dorcas for the second time in under ten minutes, and he waits, practically holding his breath, for Remus’s response. 

He’s prepared for anger. He’s prepared for indifference. He’s prepared for maybe, just maybe, ‘Yes, I know.’ 

He is once again surprised, because he is most certainly not prepared for Remus to lean across the table with his hand out and say, “Nice to meet you.” 

“I—um—nice to meet you, too?” 

It’s clear to Sirius that no one else—save Lily, of course—has any idea of the significance of this moment, especially because he’s not actually sure what that significance is. Obviously, they’re wiping the slate clean, but is it so they can start over again?

Or so they can pretend there was never anything written there at all? 

This is the only thing he can think about as Dorcas slides into the booth next to Lily, motioning for Sirius to sit across from her, and he does, even though it means he’s right next to Remus. Frank squeezes in beside him, and Alice behind Frank, and Mary hesitates a moment before she sits down, too, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dorcas. For a moment, he wonders where Fabian and Caradoc are going to place themselves—there’s no way two more people are going to fit in the booth—but then Fabian pulls two chairs out from a nearby table. He sits down in one, then abruptly stands up again. 

“I’ll grab menus,” he says, gesturing with one thumb towards the counter, and Sirius watches him go, if only for something to look at. 

Dorcas grins. “So, Sirius, tell us a bit about yourself.”

“Um—”

“Invitations to these get-togethers are rare, you know, but you know what’s even rarer? Second invitations. So start talking, buddy, and let the high council judge your crimes.”

“Dorc,” Alice reprimands, “you’re scaring him.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. My brother’s pretty, um, intense, too.”

Sirius’s confidence swells slightly at the laugh that earns him from the rest of the group. “I’m Sirius—I’m twenty-two, but I’m only in first year university because reasons. My favourite food is butter chicken. I was kicked out at age sixteen after I came out as bisexual, and I moved in with my best friend, who also happens to be my brother’s ex-boyfriend. Oh, and I’m an actor. I think that’s the basics? 

Except for Remus, who knows most of this already, everyone stares at him, expressions ranging from stunned to well then. Remus is either trying to break the tension or goad Sirius into something embarrassing when he says, “An actor? Have you been in any movies?”

Deja vu smacks into Sirius like a cement truck. If he recalls correctly—and, honestly? There’s no way in hell he doesn’t—that’s exactly what Remus said the first time Sirius introduced himself. So, of course, he responds in the same way he did then, too. “Ew. Absolutely not. Stage life all the way for me, dude.” 

Immediately, he wishes he could pull up google. Key words: is it socially acceptable to call your ex ‘dude’? Is that, like, legal? 

But Remus just grins and tips his head back in laughter. After a moment, the others follow him in ways that range from a distracted smile (Mary) to a laugh so explosive he imagines Frank would have spit out his tea if he had any.  

They’re still laughing, all eight out of nine of them, when Marlene arrives at their table, one pencil tucked behind her ear and another between her fingers as she taps it absentmindedly against her coil-bound notebook. 

“Hi,” she says, glancing from person to person. “What can I get you tod—Sirius?”

“Hiya, Marls.” 

“Fancy meeting you here.” They both smile a bit at this, because it really isn’t that surprising—neither of them ever spends a whole lot of time away from Frankie’s, really. “Where’s James?”

Sirius gasps, pretending to be affronted. “I do have other friends, I’ll have you know. He and I aren’t joined at the hip.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” he says, deciding to change the subject, “I’ll get the, uh…” it feels wrong to order fries without James there, and he’s only just now realizing that he hasn’t actually tried anything else on the menu. “The BLT. And a Nanaimo bar, please.” 

“Branching out a little, are we?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, okay. And for you?”

Without even thinking about it, he, too, turns to look at Remus, who’s got his nose buried in the menu. “A croissant,” he says, just like Sirius knew he would. “Wait, no. Two croissants.” 

“Plain? Chocolate? Cheese?”

It seems as though Remus sits up straighter. “Chocolate?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Marlene jokes in typical Marlene-fashion. 

“Telling. Croissant. Chocolate. Yes.” 

(A month ago, Sirius would have leaned over and whispered that he thinks the embarrassed blush colouring Remus’s cheeks and nose is cute. But now is not a month ago. Now, everything is different.)

Lily orders a Greek salad and an iced coffee, but Sirius isn’t paying attention to her. No, he has eyes only for the way Remus, seemingly out of sheer boredom, takes his phone out of his hoodie pocket and unlocks it, grinning at whatever he sees. Sirius wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, whether that’s the same way Remus used to smile when he got a text from him. It doesn’t matter anymore, but he can’t help but hope that once upon a time he, too, made Remus that happy. 

He doesn’t speak again until everyone else has ordered, too (grilled cheese and a sundae for Alice, poutine for Dorcas, and bagels for both Mary and Frank; Fabian and Caradoc say they’ll share a banana split (could those two get any cuter, honestly)) and even then it’s only because Dorcas asks him a question. 

“What?” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts. 

“Marlene—is she your friend? Girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Community theatre, mostly, and I see here when I come here, which is probably way too often. But no, we’re not together—Marls swings completely the other way.”

Dorcas nods. “Cool. Think I have a shot? Am I her type?”

“Depends. Do you like Titanic?” 

“The movie? No.”

“Then yes, you’re her type.” 

He laughs under his breath when she adjusts her collar and tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s the classic ‘Preparing-to-ask-a-girl-out’ routine—he’s gone through it himself on many an occasion; here’s to hoping she has more luck—and he looks away to one side to hide a smile. Unfortunately, Remus has had the same idea, and their eyes connect for a few painful seconds. 

This time, Sirius makes himself look away first. 

He finds his gaze drawn to Lily, who’s scrolling through something—probably Instagram—on her phone. He tongue flicks out every once in a while to nudge at her lip ring, and he finds the movement almost mesmerizing.

Just out of curiosity, he thinks about kissing her. Her hair would be soft between his fingers. For some reason, he imagines it smelling like citrus. Her lips look soft, but in his head they’re slightly chapped, cool and warm at the same time as they press against his, and he pulls away to look into those shining amber eyes—

Wait, Lily’s eyes are green, not amber. He is most definitely thinking about someone else��someone with twelve freckles on his nose and golden hair that curls around his ears. 

Three guesses who it is. 

But no, he scolds himself, he is not here to mope over cute boys he used to date. Or any cute boys at all, for that matter. He’s here to have fun. To make friends. To eat good food. If Remus wants to play strangers, they’ll do just that. 

“So,” he says, turning his head sideways. “You’re John, right? John Lupin?”

Maybe, just maybe, someone will explain the whole fake name thing. 

And for once, his prayers are answered. 

“Well, no,” Remus says, and Sirius searches those beautiful eyes for any trace of the fact that they both know he knows this already. He’s not sure whether to be bitter or hurt or simply sad when he finds none, so he settles for a bit of all three. “Actually, John’s my middle name. My first name’s Remus. But if you’re a literature student with a name like Remus Lupin, the only people who are going to take you seriously are the ones—well, the ones with names like Sirius Black. So I started going by John, and it just sort of stuck.”

“Remus.” Sirius twists his mouth around it, enunciating both syllables carefully, like he’s saying it for the first time. He supposes he is, in a way—after all, by unspoken agreement they seem to be starting over. 

“It’s like—do you ever get—do people ever think your name’s just a stage name? 

“All the time.” He can’t quite be sure whether or not they’ve had a conversation like this before; it does seem familiar, but most things do these days. Even if they haven’t really discussed this already, they almost certainly have in Sirius’s head. Or something similar to it, anyway.

 “It’s like that. People assume it isn’t my real name, so I changed it.” 

“Huh.” Tilting his head slightly, Sirius puts on an ‘innocently curious’ air that he knows Remus will be able to see right through. “Anything else I should know about you? 

“I turn into a bloodthirsty werewolf on full moons,” Remus says without skipping a beat. It’s impressive, really, how long he holds a completely straight face, and Sirius watches carefully to try and catch even a glimpse of a smile. “All right,” he says when it becomes clear none will appear. “Monsters are people too, I guess.”

And there it is—that wide, oh-so-brilliant grin that still makes his breath catch in his throat. No, he reprimands. No. Absolutely not. You are not going to fall in love with him again. It will only end in pain. Your pain. 

That’s right. He’s not in love. He’s not even in crush. He’s just becoming friends with someone he used to date. No biggie. Plenty of people do that, right? James and Regulus broke up almost a year ago, and they still hang out. 

Sufficiently reassured, he plows bravely on. “What else? Have you, I dunno, killed anyone?”

“No, but I do have three tattoos.”

Sirius blinks slowly. He can picture one of them—the crossed ski poles on the inside of Remus’s ankle—but he doesn’t think he’s seen the other two. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ve got a pair of ski poles on my foot—I’m from Whistler; practically grew up on the hills—and here, on my wrist—” he pauses, rolling his sleeve up to expose his inner arm “—I’ve got the Illuminati symbol.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sirius waits for the ‘just kidding.’ None comes, however, and apparently none will, because now he can see the small triangle inked there, plain as day. 

“I was eighteen, okay?” continues Remus. “And I hadn’t slept in like four days and I might have been slightly drunk. Everyone who has tattoos also has tattoo horror stories, and this is mine. Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you.” And he’s really not. He knows what it’s like to make bad decisions when one is young and tired—he fights off the flashbacks of a sixteen-year-old James piercing his left ear for him at two in the morning—and hey, at least Remus has learned to laugh about it now. “What’s the third one?” 

“The third tattoo?”

“Yeah.” 

Pulling up his sleeve even farther, Remus points to a patch of tiny lettering on the inside of his elbow. “It says ‘Leviticus 18:22.’” 

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bible verse. You’ve probably heard it before, or some version of it—'thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind, ‘tis an abomination.'”

Sirius feels as though his thought process has been unceremoniously dumped into a blender. What? Remus can’t be a homophobe. Remus dated him, for heaven’s sake. 

(He’s also right—Sirius has heard that before. As soon as she found out he was queer, his mother pulled a bible out from he’s not sure where and read that verse out to him. It was, like, a whole thing.)

The only thing he can think of to say is ‘what,’ so that's what he says. “What?”

“Don’t worry,” Remus hurries to assure him, “I’m not a bigot or anything. I like guys, too. I just did it for the edge factor, y’know? It’s ironic; it’s supposed to be funny.”

“You have a really weird sense of humour.”

“I know.”

Slowly, Sirius shakes his head in disbelief. “So three tattoos—ski poles, Illuminati, and bible reference?”

“Yep.”

Then he hears, from the end of the table, “And the one on your neck.”

Both Sirius’s and Remus’s gazes dart to Fabian, who has stopped fiddling with the salt shaker and is looking over at them quizzically. “That constellation thing. The one you only got a couple months ago. 

Remus does not look like a deer in headlights. He looks like an escaped criminal caught in the flashlight beam of a police detective. 

Matters are only made worse—or better, Sirius reasons, depending on how you look at it—when Alice joins in. “Yeah, Moony! That’s the coolest one, if you ask me.” 

Remus blushes. It’s only because of the close proximity that Sirius hears his mutter “No one did,” under his breath. 

“This fucker here,”Alice says, seemingly oblivious to humiliation radiating from Remus’s corner of the booth, “Came home—we live together, Lily and Remus and Caradoc and me—in… what was it? January? With yet another tattoo, and he wouldn’t tell us why. My guess is that he just walked by and saw the design in the window and decided he liked it. Impulsive one, our Moony.”  

Sirius decides that he’s not going to ask where the nickname comes from. He has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t particularly want to know. 

“It’s kind of funny, actually. Took him like a week for us to bully him into letting us see it, and it turns out he’s got the Sirius constellation right there above his collarbone.” She pauses. “Sirius. Huh. I guess Remus just, like, subconsciously decided you two should be friends, even though he hadn’t even met you yet. Maybe he’s psychic or something.” 

Even if his life depended on it, nothing in the world could make Sirius look at Remus right now. If he does, something terrible is almost definitely going to happen—one of them will drop dead of a rare kind of heart attack, or Frankie’s will blow up and kill them all before their food gets there, or Sirius will start crying. 

A tattoo. A fucking tattoo. It doesn’t make sense to him, no matter the number of times he adds it up in his head, because tattoos are something for people who are forever. 

It’s one of those things you just grow up learning—you don’t get tattoos of another person’s name (or the thing they’re named after; potato, potahto) unless you’re absolutely sure, and sure does not mean kissing other people at parties. 

Unless, apparently, you are Remus John Lupin. 

“Really?” Sirius asks. “Huh. That’s cool. Aren’t neck tattoos supposed to hurt, like, a shitton, though?”

There’s a pregnant pause, like the universe is holding its breath. Finally, Remus smiles tightly and says, just barely loud enough for Sirius to hear, “It was worth it.”

***

If Sirius was held at swordpoint and told to recount what the rest of their conversation entails, he would say ‘stab me.’ All he can say for sure is that whatever discussion is had, it stops as soon as Marlene arrives with the food. 

“Two croissants for you, Sir,” she says, placing Remus’s plate in front of him. “And an iced coffee and Greek salad for you, my lady; a banana split for the two utterly charming earls here; a grilled cheese and triple hot fudge sundae for our duchess and one whole grain toasted bagel with cream cheese for her duke, a plain untoasted bagel with cream cheese for the princess with the colourful hair, and one serving of poutine for the absolute queen I see in front of me.”

Sirius is positive Dorcas actually swoons a little at the ‘queen’ comment. Were this a cartoon, her eyes would now be comically large pink hearts. 

“Oh, and how could I forget. A BLT and Nanaimo bar for our resident court jester.” 

He sticks his tongue out at her. What can he say—he’s immature. And dramatic. The best combination, truly. 

Dorcas watches Marlene turn with a smile and walk back to the counter, and, once she’s sure the object of her affections is safely out of earshot, she sighs. “I think I’m in love.” 

“She snores,” Sirius tells her, to no avail. “Like a pig.”

“I love pigs.”

“No, Dorc.” Fabian’s eyes are glittering. “You love bacon.” 

“You guys are teaming up on me! This is homophobia!” 

“I’m literally gay.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Sirius catches Fabian’s eyes across the table. The ginger waves his ice cream spoon around his ear in a ‘crazy’ motion, and Sirius agrees wholeheartedly. Dorcas is, indeed, crazy. 

“You’re crazy, Dorcas.” 

“Crazy in love.” 

(At this point, he could probably tell the whole story about the tomatoes—acting out the best parts, no less—and it would not change her mind in the slightest.) (That’s a good thing, actually; no one deserves Marlene unless they can accept the tomato story in full.) 

Beside him, Remus is already halfway through his first croissant. Some would say he must be hungry, and those people clearly do not know Remus Lupin. He’s not hungry—well, he might be—he just loves chocolate that much. There were times during their relationship that Sirius joked about Remus loving chocolate more than he loved Sirius himself. 

Well. He supposes that now, after everything, it’s probably true. 

(No! Bad Sirius! No moping!)

His sandwich, he finds, when he takes a bite, isn’t actually that bad. It tastes—well, it tastes like bacon and lettuce and tomato and bread, which it is. It’s quite a good combination, he thinks, and he wishes he’d thought of it first. 

Finally, Dorcas motions for Mary to move out of the booth into the aisle. “I’m going for it,” she says, holding her hand up like a microphone. Sirius can’t help but laugh at the announcer voice she uses, and laugh more when she adds, “Wish me luck, my friends.”

“You won’t need it,” Remus assures her through a mouthful of croissant. 

“Who cares if I need it? It’s about the principle of the thing.”

“Good luck, Dorcas.”

“Thank you, Lily.” 

It would seem fitting, Sirius reasons, if they had popcorn right now. They’re certainly all watching intently, as if it's a movie, the shy way Dorcas and Marlene smile at each other before they start talking too quietly to hear. When Marlene starts twisting her blond hair around her index finger, Remus leans over to him.  

“You’ve certainly come on the right day—episode one of ‘Dorcas tries to woo the girl of her dreams.’”

‘You’re too close!’ Sirius screams in his mind. ‘How am I supposed to not fall in love with you when you’re whispering in my ear and your breath is warm on the back of my neck and if I turned my head we would be kissing and—’

“Look, she’s handing her phone over,” he says instead, and Remus moves away to rest his elbows on the table. 

“Would you look at that. It seems that Operation: get Dorc a girlfriend has progressed past stage one,” Alice jokes. 

Sirius leans forward to look over Frank at her. “What’s stage two?”

“Make sure said girlfriend doesn’t find out about the cactus shrine.”

“...I don’t think I want to know.” 

“No, you really don’t.”

But now Dorcas is walking back over to them, and she’s beaming, and she holds out her phone excitedly. “I got her number! She saved her contact in my phone, too—’Marlene; red heart emoji; parrot emoji.’” 

The first one to start is Lily, and Remus follows soon after. When Alice, too, brings her hands together, Sirius joins in, and soon they’re all slow clapping. He can’t quite be sure whether this is a sincere slow clap or an ironic one, but, judging by the way Dorcas’s grin only grows wider, he’s going to go with the former. 

“Thank you, thank you!” She bows dramatically, and Sirius looks around him at the other smiling faces of booth seven, and he can’t help but think, ‘Oh my god, I have friends.’

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 15)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2218

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​ and @arrow-guy​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wound up at the door of an expensive apartment in the center of Manhattan. Well, at least it wasn’t a far journey. You knocked on the door, unsure what to expect.

When a woman with stunning red hair opened the door, your eyes narrowed in surprise.

“Stephen? Are you expecting company?” she called behind her into the apartment.

“No, I--” you began to answer before holding out your hand, hoping she could see the marking. She took your hand in hers, reading the mark left by Stephen. 

“You’re his soulmate?” she asked in astonishment. She glanced back to someone, but you couldn’t see around her. “You’ve got a lot on your hands,” she mused before pursing her lips and breezing past you.

You frowned, wondering what that meant, and who that was. You took a tentative step in, letting the door close behind you. You finally saw the figure who was standing at a window, his back to you. 

“Are you...Stephen Strange?” you asked aloud. 

“Who’s asking?” he asked tersely, not turning to you.

“I’m Y/F/N,” you informed, walking forward, your hand outstretched. 

“And I should care, why?” he asked, finally turning around. When he did, his appearance surprised you. He looked unkempt. A beard that was unruly, hair that was matted and needed a wash, in a robe that needed to see the inside of a washing machine, and worn eyes. 

“I’m your soulmate,” you explained, going to show him your hand, only to realize and remember that the markings disappeared the moment you two saw each other. 

“If you’re here looking for money, you’re barking up the wrong tree, I don’t have any money,” he told you, defeated as he fell into a chair. “Not anymore.” 

You shook your head. “I came here simply because your name and location appeared on my arm.” Then you sat down at the table with him.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he snapped.

You looked him up and down, a look of sympathy in your eyes. He reminded you of Charles when you first met him -- broken, damaged, self-loathing, a total wreck. You didn’t know the first thing about this man, but you knew he needed your help. 

“You don’t believe in soulmates,” you surmised from his tone.

“No, I don’t.”

You sat there as he was clearly dismissing you. You looked at him and immediately started a psychological profile on him. He had wealth… his hands appeared to be damaged… he was clearly upset… so was the woman who left… he was arrogant....

That’s when you remembered the first mark that ever showed up on your skin from him -- it was shorthand. 

“You’re a doctor,” you suddenly breathed out in realization.

“Congratulations. Would you like a prize?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’d like you to talk to me. A few months ago, you wrote shorthand on your left hand, and it showed up on mine. Now, normally, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal--”

“But?” he pressed, his temper showing. 

“But I’ve already got a soulmate…”

His attention slowly turned on you some more. Now he seemed interested.

“You already have a soulmate?”

You nodded. “Yes, I got him when I was eighteen. We wrote on our skin for years, emailed back and forth, then suddenly… his name and address came to me. We’ve been living together for a while now… But then one day, your shorthand popped up on my hand and we didn’t know what to make of it. Neither did the county clerk. They said they’ve never had a record of someone having two mates.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes on you. “So, what -- I’m supposed to believe you and I are mates? Bullshit.” 

“Ever wonder why you have all those marks on your arm?” you inquired. “Scars you never got?”

“I ignored them,” he grumbled as he looked away.

“Why?”

“Soulmates are for children,” he explained as his attention snapped back to you. He leaned closer to you. “Love is just a waste of time. It’s one giant Hallmark holiday.” 

You peered at him with a side smile.

“Oh, do you find that amusing?”

“I find your defense mechanisms incredible. Tell me, do they usually work?” you asked. 

He glared at you. “What are you? A shrink?”

“I prefer the term psychiatrist,” you noted simply with a grin. 

“Oh, great. So you think if we talk, if I just open up, then all of this will be okay?”

“No, I don’t. I have no idea what’s going on here but I’m going to bet it has something to do with a recent trauma, my guess is physical. You were a doctor, no? Possibly surgeon of some kind. You had some kind of damage to your hands and now they won’t work.” 

“Wow, you really know how to make a guys problems sound minimal. Yes, my hands, the source of my work, the source of my ability are fucked, alright? I had the steadiest hand on this side of the globe. I was world renowned. I got into a car accident and the jackasses at the hospital ruined me, alright? They ruined me!” he shouted. “I’ve been through every experimental surgery there is and it’s not getting any better. I’ve spent everything but my last dime trying to get back to where I was. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Stephen, I only want to hear what you want to tell me. I didn’t choose to come here, the universe told me you needed me. I think it’s very clear that you do.” 

“Oh yeah, because we’re so close, you know everything about me. Well what would you know about having your livelihood ripped away from you?” he remarked. 

“Nothing,” you answered honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize, that I can’t help…” 

“Help,” he scoffed. “I don’t need help, yours or anyone else’s.” 

“You mean like the woman that just walked out? Did you throw her out or did she leave?” you wondered.

“Hey, I don’t need any fucking mind games, okay? I’ve got enough to deal with without playing ‘Get Psychoanalyzed’ with some stranger.” 

“We wouldn’t be strangers if you weren’t so afraid of getting hurt by love again,” you stated.

He narrowed his stormy grey eyes at you. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know I’m right. The way you get defensive and hostile every time I bring up love, it seems to really bother you. I don’t think it’s romantic though.” You peered at him as he seemed annoyed. “No, if it was romantic, that woman wouldn’t have walked out of here. I don’t think it has anything to do with that. Romantic love can be forgotten, let go, replaced… You lost a loved one, didn’t you?”

“Are you a fortune teller? If I tell you you’re right, are you going to leave me alone?”

“I’m not going to leave you alone until you look well enough to take a proper bath by yourself. I’m judging by your hair and facial hair that your lady friend tries to keep up with your hygiene but struggles.” 

“I’m not a toddler.”

“No, but you do need help,” you insisted easily.

“Let me make this perfectly clear: I didn’t ask for your help, I don’t want your help, I don’t need your help. So please, see yourself to the door and make your way back to your other soulmate or your first soulmate or whoever it is and leave...me...alone.” 

You sucked in your lips, trying to think of a way to get him to let you stay. Clearly he had a lot of pride. Charles wasn’t extremely pleasant when you met him in his state of need. But this was completely different. This man didn’t want anyone around… Maybe that was it… 

“Maybe you don’t want pity, or help, or for anyone to see you this way,” you offered, “but from where I’m sitting, it looks like you could use someone in your life. I take it that that woman was probably about the only person you had left.” 

He didn’t say anything, just looked away with resentful eyes.

“If I’m right about the fact that you’ve lost a loved one -- family, and that woman was the last friend you had… Sitting alone in a huge apartment isn’t going to do anything for your morale. You’re a doctor, you know patients need hope to get better. Being alone and feeling helpless isn’t going to get any better, and it certainly won’t make your hands return to normal.” 

His eyes shifted to the floor, looking around, as if to avoid your face. 

“I’m not here to ridicule or pity. I don’t know anything about you except you seem like a man lost within himself and he doesn’t want to ask for help for fear he’ll be seen as a failure. I’m not going to judge you. I’m a doctor, you’re a doctor, just let me help you.”

“Really took the whole oath thing to another level huh?” he mocked. His eyes found yours before eyeing you up and down slowly. “You’re really not going to leave, are you?” he asked, seeming to accept this. 

“I’m a psychiatrist, Stephen, I’ve seen a lot worse than you,” you informed boldly. 

He slightly rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to stay, I guess you can make yourself useful. I need laundry done.”

You nodded with a partial smile. “Sure thing. Just point the way.” 

With that, he lazily pointed down the hall. There you found a stack of laundry inside a large master bedroom. You picked it all up and then went by him. He was still moping at his glass dining room table. 

“Do you have a washing machine downstairs?”

“Basement. Take the elevator all the way down. They’re on the left.” 

“I’ll be right back,” you kindly said. 

You got downstairs and sorted all of the laundry, got three loads started, and came back up while those worked. “Alright, what next?”

“Dishes, I suppose. Christine can bring food, she just can’t clean up after it.”

You smiled and nodded as you walked away from the dining area to the open kitchen to do his dishes. 

“So… Christine… she’s your…” you trailed off, wanting him to fill in the blanks as you picked up the dishes to get them ready to clean.

“Colleague,” he stated, warning just under his tone. 

“Are you sure you two haven’t been closer?” you wondered. 

“If you’re just going to psychoanalyze me--”

“I’m not giving you a free therapy session, Dr. Strange, I’m trying to get to know you. Like you, my skills are highly regarded and sought after. Giving you a free session wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

He mulled over your words for a moment and realized you were right. Giving therapy wasn’t free or easy, and a lot of time and energy went into it. So he humored you. “Well if you must know, yes, we dated for a while.” 

“Was it serious?” 

“If it was serious we’d be married, don’t you think?”

“Not necessarily.” 

He watched you work for a moment before sighing. “No, I suppose it wasn’t. I think we wanted it to be, and it just didn’t work that way.”

“And why is that?” 

“You know, we just met, I’m not sure you should be asking me all this. You’re the stranger who came into my home. I feel like I should be vetting you.”

“We wouldn’t be strangers if you had just responded to some of my messages,” you argued, a sort of teasing in your tone as you continued to work on getting the dishes loaded.

“So you really believe in all this romantic nonsense, that there really is one person out there for everyone?” he asked, sounding curious. 

“Not quite. If I felt that, everyone would have a soulmate. I think a select few get their partners. I also think people who don’t have soulmates have very loving and fantastic relationships, perhaps better than some soulmates.” 

“So why go through all this? If you’re already with a mate, why are you here with me?” 

You turned to him, putting your hands on the counter between dishes as you looked directly at him. “The universe led me to one great man, why wouldn’t it do so again? I trust it.” 

“That’s a lot of faith.”

“Perhaps I can have enough faith and hope for the both of us, since clearly you need it.” 

He didn’t respond and two seconds later, you announced, “Done! Dishes are loaded and washing.” 

“Thanks. I’m going to bed,” he said as he got up. 

You frowned. “Alright. Do you need help?”

“No, over the years I’ve mastered the art of laying my body in a bed and pulling covers over myself.” 

You sighed. “Alright, if you’re going to be an ass about it, I’ll put the things in the dryer and then I’m going to a hotel nearby. Expect me back in the morning,” you called after him as he walked into his room.

“Expect me to still not want you here,” he called back. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling at the challenge you were about to face before stepping out of his apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[loving-jack-kelly]

Like Real People Do

The path was hidden. Barely visible. It was rarely used. Almost never, in fact, leaving the path faint.

The entrance was marked by a stone, perfectly round and covered in moss that was just slightly too bright green to be entirely natural.

It was always talked about in hushed whispers. Whispered warnings told to friends who wandered too far off the road.

If you wander, the whispers said, the path will appear. And once you take the path, you can’t step off of it until you’ve given it what it wants.

What it wants, nobody knows. Names, some said. Lives, souls, wishes, hopes, dreams, money, goods, anything you have. It wants.

But some whispers didn’t stop there. Some whispers kept going, some whispers dropped even quieter, hard to hear over crackling fires, hidden in the dancing shadows cast by candles. Some whispers went past the warnings and delivered the promises.

The promise that the path, if sought, not stumbled upon, could give up what you needed in return for what it wanted.

The path was dangerous if you wandered onto it by mistake. Keep your eyes on the road, watch for the round, mossy stone and the faint trail, and avoid them.

Perhaps, the promises said, the path was even more dangerous when sought. Perhaps there’s nothing more dangerous than seeking your wishes and being willing to give yourself up for them. But perhaps, for some things, it would be worth it. Perhaps, for some wishes, having no name would be worth it. Perhaps, for some dreams, fewer years would be worth it. Perhaps, to some, the most dangerous few, perhaps vengeance would be worth never leaving the path at all.

David had heard all of it before. It was cookfire gossip, stories of old relatives told to young children to scare them into staying on the well-traveled road and staying off the hunting paths. That was all. About a half-hour outside their little village there was a decent-sized rock that marked an old deer trail, and that was what kids pointed to to tell the stories. They dared each other to step onto the faintly-there trail, and nobody ever went through with it.

Because maybe they all claimed they didn’t believe the stories, but was it worth it, really? To risk it? To risk everything to test a story?

There was another stone. Further along the road, and smaller. Almost hidden in the undergrowth, but almost perfectly round, and covered in moss so green it almost seemed to glow. And just beyond it was a path so faint it was almost invisible, little more than a simple break in the trees. Too natural to be a hunting path, and almost too narrow to have been made by an animal.

That was the stone and the path David was staring at.

Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk of this being the real path? Was it worth giving up a piece of himself?

Yes.

It wasn’t as hard of a choice as it should have been.

David stepped onto the path.

It didn’t feel any different than the rest of the forest. It felt like what it looked like, a barely used rough path through the trees. He followed it, feeling the underbrush catch at his pants, the dead leaves and dry twigs crunch under his boots.

He was hyperaware of everything around him. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting, but he kept waiting for the path to shift. To change. To become whatever it was that could grant his wish.

It didn’t.

The path ended against a boulder. It wasn’t a clearing, just a big boulder with the trees and brush growing up right against it.

David sat down with his back against the boulder. The path he’d followed hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, he could follow it back to where he came from.

Maybe this was the wrong path. Maybe there was another somewhere, hidden even better.

Or maybe he’d been stupid to believe the stories, even for a second. Even out of desperation. Maybe he’d just wasted his afternoon following a path to nowhere.

“Been a while since anybody’s been down here.” A voice came from somewhere above and behind him, startling him out of his moping. “You here on purpose?”

David stood up and turned around.

A man who looked like he was several years older than him was sitting on top of the boulder. David didn’t know him, had never seen him before, and hadn’t heard him approach or climb up the boulder. He was just…there.

“Must be, if you sat down. When people end up here on accident, they’re freaking out by now. Cursing the name of someone or other, whoever told ‘em to follow the path.”

He was grinning at David, a bright, disarming smile. Something about him just seemed…strange. Maybe it was his eyes, the same bright, bright green of the moss on the round stone. They didn’t seem to match the rest of him. He had dark hair, dark skin, his clothes were muted natural colors, and his eyes were so bright they seemed to glow.

“Nice to have somebody come visit who isn’t kicking and screaming. Guess that probably means you want something, though, huh? Nobody’s ever here just to visit. I wasn’t, the first time. Just got lost in the woods, picked the wrong place to wander.”

He was sitting cross-legged on top of the boulder, and as he spoke, he rested his elbow on his knee and his face on his hand, still grinning.

“Cat got your tongue? I don’t bite. Unless you try to trick me, then I do. It’s in the contract. Clause eight. If trickery is attempted, bite them. Hard. Draw blood. I’m paraphrasing, of course, no need to look so scared. I just have to trick back. You won’t try to trick me, will you? You gotta say something, here, I won’t be able to help if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“You’re…”

“I’m a wish-granter, a man of the path, a soul stealer. A life taker. I’ve been called many things. I guess you could call me Jack.”

“Jack.”

“That’s what everyone called me, once. A long time ago. Nobody has asked in a long time.”

“This is the wish-path, then.”

“That’s one name it’s been given.”

“What do you call it?”

“Home.” Jack’s smile widened, and David pinpointed another slightly unnerving feature. His teeth were ever so slightly pointed, just a bit sharper than a human’s. “And what do you want with it? Nobody comes here on purpose without a wish in mind.”

There was a glint of something in his eyes, David decided. He was speaking charmingly enough and seemed friendly enough, but he was dangerous. Maybe he’d been kidding less than he’d seemed when he’d said he would bite back.

But he was right. David had come here for a reason, and he did have a wish, and he was going to make it.

“I wish that my father was healed.”

“Oh?”

“He got hurt. Two weeks ago. He can’t work, and without him working our family doesn’t have enough. My little brother and I have to work, instead.”

“And you don’t want to work?”

“I don’t mind, but Les is only ten. He shouldn’t have to be working yet. He should be in school. Playing with his friends.”

“You know, making a wish is a dangerous thing. Answers come with a price.”

“I know.”

Jack’s bright green eyes seemed to look right through David like he could see his every thought and his true intentions and was analyzing them closely to see if he was worthy of the wish.

“And you’re willing to pay the price?”

“If I can.”

“I never charge an impossible fare. That’s also in the contract, clause two.” Jack smiled again. It was unsettling, how close he was to human with just the details slightly off. Human but a bit to the left.

“What would the price be?”

“Your wish is simply to heal your father?”

“Yes.”

“Your name.” Jack’s eyes flashed a deeper green, and David wasn’t sure if it was the light or if they’d actually changed colors.

“My…name?”

“I can heal your father if you give me your name.”

David knew those stories well. It seemed like such a simple request. Give Jack his name, just say the word, and his father would be healed. Only that’s not what Jack was asking, not in the way any normal person asked for David to give his name. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t “what is your name?”

It was a price. If Jack told David to give him his name and David responded, then his name wasn’t his anymore. It was Jack’s.

Was it worth it?

David thought about why he was here. About the expression on Les’s face when he had to go to work instead of to school, about how Les was too tired to play with his friends. Was it worth giving up his name for his little brother?

Yes. It didn’t take long to decide. Of course it was worth it. His family was worth anything.

“Okay.”

“In exchange for healing your father, give me your name.”

“David.”

In a flash of a moment, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t his identity that was gone. He knew who he was, where he came from, who his family was. Why he was here. He could remember that a moment ago, he’d had a name, and that it was David. But he could feel that it wasn’t his name anymore. He didn’t have a name. He was himself, but there was no name to attach to that.

Jack’s eyes glowed. This time he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light, light came from Jack’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name. Strong.” Jack looked down at him from his seat on top of the boulder. “Your father is healed.”

“Thank you.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and slid down to the ground. Almost floated, really, very gently and gracefully. Jack was shorter than him by a few inches, and once he was close his energy was almost palpable, like the feeling before a lightning strike. Jack paused, looking into his eyes, and too late, he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to say thank you. After a long moment, Jack smiled, a much softer smile than the one he’d displayed before.

“You’re honest. You have a good heart. Take a gift from me. I give you a name, not as strong as the one you gave me, but a good one anyway. Davey. And I give you a promise, that nobody will ask to take it away.”

As soon as he said it, the void left by giving up his name was filled, and he knew that he was Davey.

A gift from Jack. Not a filled wish, not a trade, but a gift. Maybe that was even more dangerous, maybe it left a debt unfilled, but that was a powerful gift. A name that nobody would take away.

Jack reached out and touched the tip of his finger to Davey’s nose, and another space was filled, this time one he hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. His name was secure, now, immovable. The second part of Jack’s gift.

“Use it well.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and when Davey blinked, he was back on the road, staring at the stone that marked the wish-path.

Wish-magic was a dangerous thing. Davey knew that. He’d known that before he sought the wish-path and he’d known that while he was making his wish and he knew that as he made his way home, a new name in his being and a gifted protection burning at the tip of his nose.

He could feel it, where Jack had touched him. The imprint of Jack’s finger, right at the tip of his nose, where the magic flowed around him and protected his name.

Wish-magic was dangerous, and gifts from wish-granters were dangerous, but when Davey got home and the village all knew him as Davey even if there was a little bit of confusion like they knew it had changed, and his father was out of bed, still weak but no longer in pain, it didn’t matter how dangerous the magic was.

He was home. He had a name, and a promise that he would always keep it. His family was safe and cared for. That was what mattered.

In the months and eventually years that followed, Davey was almost able to forget Jack, the man with the bright green eyes who’d granted his wish and given him a gift.

Twice, the tip of his nose burned like it had right after Jack had touched it. Once, when an old woman in the center of the village, passing through selling her wares, asked his name. He gave it, without thinking, and when his nose burned, he noticed her face fall.

And again, walking on the road and passing by a stranger going the opposite way. As soon as Davey looked at him, his nose was burning, and he knew better than to take a second look.

On those occasions, Davey was forced to remember his trip to the wish-path because it was clear the gifted promise was still in effect. When he passed the stone that marked the path, covered in its otherworldly green moss, he remembered. And sometimes, when he wanted something so bad it hurt, he remembered.

But most of the time, he didn’t think about it. The things he wanted were things he could get himself or go without, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d get off so easy on a second venture to the wish-path.

So while he occasionally thought of the wish-path and of Jack the wish granter, he didn’t really seriously consider going back.

Until, that is, he was told that he was to be married.

He knew that his parents wanted what was best for him and what was best for their family, but he also knew that he would never be happy married to the woman they’d chosen. Mostly because, well, she was a woman. And he didn’t want to marry a woman.

He knew they didn’t understand why it upset him so much when they told him, and he didn’t know where he was going when he left, but somehow he wasn’t surprised when he found himself standing in front of the moss-covered stone.

When he started walking down the path, his nose burned. The closer he thought he was to the end, the stronger the feeling got. It wasn’t painful, but it was very present.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a repeat visitor before.”

Jack’s voice hadn’t changed at all in the three years since Davey’s last visit. When Davey looked up and saw him, again perched on top of the boulder at the end of the path, his face hadn’t changed either. The same bright green eyes framed by dark, dramatic curls. The same muted clothes. He hadn’t changed at all.

By looks, Davey had caught up to his age.

“How are you, Davey?”

That question surprised him. He couldn’t think of any way it could be twisted around. He wasn’t be asked for anything, just a simple question.

“I suppose that’s a silly question, actually. Why would you be here if you were good? Your gift is serving you well, though. I can feel it working now, and I’m not even trying to trick you. I must have made it more powerful than I meant to.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled, and Davey was sure it was with humor.

He had a feeling Jack didn’t do much on accident.

“Do you have another wish?”

“I wish that I didn’t have to marry her.”

Jack tilted his head, and for a second time Davey felt like he was reading every detail of Davey’s mind, thoughts and motivations and desires.

“Strange,” he said after a long moment. “That’s a selfish wish, and yet you still aren’t selfish.”

“What?”

“People have made that wish before. It’s almost out of nothing more than selfishness. Because she’s too ugly, or he isn’t rich enough, not out of consideration for anything. You don’t want to marry her because it will make you unhappy, but also because you know it wouldn’t be fair to her. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? Is it selfish to want that?”

“It’s selfish to want your own happiness even if it means the unhappiness of others. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something for your own happiness when what you want will also make somebody else happy.”

Jack slid down to the ground, again with the otherworldly grace Davey had seen the last time he was here.

“Selfishness is addressed in the contract. Clause four. If a wish is made for selfish gain, it may only be granted at the highest cost. Even though I don’t think your wish is selfish, it’s a powerful wish. Much more powerful than simple healing. I can grant it, though.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Give me your time.” Jack extended his hand, his eyes glowing like they had when he’d healed Davey’s father.

Davey hesitated, but he took Jack’s hand. It was warm, and Davey could feel energy coursing through the connection, like the burning at the tip of his nose but more comfortable and powerful. After what only felt like a few seconds, Jack let go.

Davey felt dizzy. Something had happened, he could tell, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“A powerful wish. A powerful price. I hope it was worth it.”

“What did I give you?”

“A year of your time.” Jack tilted his head, studying Davey’s reaction. “She’s married. Happy. There’ll be a kid in a few months.”

“You mean it’s been a year since I came here?”

“I told you. A high price for a powerful wish.”

“What will my family think?”

Jack shrugged.

“They know you’re safe. They probably know you found a path, people are smart about these things. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“I…I have to go.”

“Of course.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and he gave Davey a small smile. “Hey!” He called when Davey started to walk back down the path.

“What?”

“You don’t have to have a wish to visit. Come back any time.”

“You…you want me to just come to visit?”

“Gets pretty lonely here. People don’t come very often. It’d be nice to have a friend.”

Davey’s family was glad to see him. His parents had tears in their eyes when they hugged him, and Sarah and Les did too. The people in their little village looked at him differently. He’d been gone for a year, of course they did.

He didn’t tell his parents, or his siblings, or anyone that his missing year had been a wish. Of course he didn’t, that would require explaining too many things. He told them he’d gotten lost. Took a wrong path while not paying attention, and when he’d found his way back, it had been a year. Just like that. A year passed in the blink of an eye.

And that was what happened. Technically. Just with a little extra intention behind it.

For a while, things were wonderful. Even though it hadn’t felt long for him at all, and he hadn’t aged that year he’d given to Jack, for his family it had been a long time that he’d been away from home. They were happy to have him around, happy that he was safe and home and with them again.

Every once in awhile, Davey found himself wandering down Jack’s path, spending an afternoon just talking to him.

There weren’t many people his age in the village. And he knew, obviously, that Jack wasn’t his age either. Jack was something old and powerful, not even human. But he had a face that seemed to be Davey’s age, and when he wasn’t talking in riddles or saying things just outside of Davey’s realm of understanding, he sounded like he was Davey’s age, too. In fact, he was easy to talk to.

Friendship with somebody like Jack was probably even more dangerous than wish-magic, but he was easy to be friends with. Easy to talk to. Even if the tip of Davey’s nose burned whenever he was there, it was easy to feel comfortable at the end of the path at the moss-covered boulder.

Jack asked questions about life. He’d been human once, Davey learned, a long time ago, before he signed the contract he kept referencing. He wanted to know how much had changed since then. The answer seemed to be not much.

Davey sometimes was brave enough to ask questions back. He learned that Jack was bound to his path, that he could walk from the top of the boulder to the smaller stone that marked the entrance, and no further. He learned that there were limits to Jack’s power, but not many. Jack could raise a person from the dead. He couldn’t force somebody to fall in love. He couldn’t change a person’s nature, make a bad person good or a good person bad.

It took a lot of visits before Davey asked why Jack had signed the contract.

It was clear that he was lonely. He missed being a human, having friends. He wanted to grow up.

“I found this path on accident and made a very, very powerful wish,” Jack said simply. “Signing the contract was the price I paid.”

“What was your wish?” Davey asked.

Jack’s eyes, which changed shades with his mood, darkened to the deepest green Davey had ever seen in them.

“Justice. Something the world rarely offers, which makes it a very costly wish.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t hesitate. “Justice served more than me. It was a bigger cause than my life was worth. And one day somebody will come along and sign their name under mine, and I’ll be able to walk away.”

“That’s how it works? A trade?”

“Of sorts.”

For a while, that was wonderful. Davey was happy at home, and happy to continue his friendship with Jack. Happy to continue his relationship with Jack.

If wish-magic was dangerous and being friends with a wish-granter was dangerous, surely falling in love with one was deadly. But could Davey help it? When Jack was interesting and kind and always willing to listen, and always had something to say. Maybe for the same reason he’d been drawn to Jack as a friend, that there weren’t many boys his own age in the village, Davey couldn’t help it.

When his parents began to urge him to find a wife again, that only intensified it, because the way he felt when he was around Jack, leaned back against the boulder in a conversation he was actively enjoying…that kind of feeling never came from anybody else, least of all the girls his parents were pushing him towards.

It was that realization that took him down Jack’s path again, with a wish in his heart.

Whenever Davey came, Jack asked.

“Do you have a wish?”

Normally, Davey told him no.

“I do.”

“Really?”

“I wish that everyone would understand.”

Just like Davey hadn’t had to explain who he hadn’t wanted to marry, he knew he didn’t have to explain what he meant. Jack understood.

“That’s a selfish wish.”

“I know.”

“Clause four. I have to charge a high price.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked into Davey’s eyes, reading him.

“Give me your breath,” he finally said.

His breath.

That was a high price.

Before he could change his mind, he nodded.

Jack’s eyes flashed.

And then he kissed Davey.

It took his breath away.

When Jack pulled back, he was laughing.

“There’s more than one way to steal a person’s breath.”

“That seems like a cheat.”

“Isn’t that my job? To trick? I tricked you. I tricked the contract.”

Davey was also laughing when Jack kissed him again.

The summer sun streamed through the trees, the boulder was solid behind his back, and Jack stole his breath until the light was gold and he had to leave.

And when he got home, everyone understood.

It was a strange thing, long after Davey��s third wish had come true and everyone understood and nobody was trying to push him into a relationship. Long after he’d started to find excuses to spend sun-drunk afternoons with Jack, somehow easily falling into a relationship that should have felt impossible.

A man walked down the road into the village.

He looked familiar, Davey thought. Dark curls framing a dark face, worn in clothes that almost faded into the forest behind him. Eyes so dark brown they were almost black. He was pretty. He walked with a slight limp like there was a stone in his shoe.

Davey didn’t recognize him at first, not until he was much closer.

“Jack?”

“Hello.”

Davey’s nose wasn’t burning the way it always did when he visited Jack’s path. Jack’s eyes weren’t green, they didn’t shift when he smiled. But it was Jack. Unmistakably Jack.

“You left the path?”

“Somebody made a wish,” Jack said, sitting down next to Davey on the step to his house. “A selfish, powerful wish.”

“Oh?”

“There is nothing more selfish or more powerful than wishing to live forever. To leave behind everyone and everything, to cause your loved ones pain, and to disrupt the way of the world.”

“Somebody signed the contract.”

“And now he’ll live forever, and I can live my life.” Jack smiled again, and Davey decided that his brown eyes suited him much better than the green.

“I have one more wish, then.”

“I don’t know if I can grant it.”

“You can.”

“Oh?”

“I wish that you would stay. Here. With me.”

“That might be the most expensive wish from you yet.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Give me your life.” Jack opened his hand, palm up, and extended it to Davey. Resting on his palm was a ring, made out of something as green as Jack’s eyes had been. As green as the moss on the stone that marked the wish-path.

“Okay.” Davey took the ring and slid it on his finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did, Jack seemed to know everything he wanted to.

Out of all of the prices he’d paid for his wishes, this was perhaps the easiest to pay. Hadn’t he already started to make the decision anyway?

Jack’s smile widened, and he twined their fingers together, staring at the bright green ring against Davey’s skin.

Davey realized that this was the first time he’d seen Jack smile without anything else behind it. Nothing but happiness.

And that meant that Davey’s wish wasn’t selfish. Jack had decided that before, that a wish wasn’t selfish as long as it was to make more than one person happy.

Maybe this was the most worthwhile wish yet, even if magic hadn’t been needed to accomplish it.

[shelbsterthegryffinpuff]

Crash (Sirius Black/reader)

Based on the song Crash by You Me At Six

Word Count: 2342

Warning: There is a bit of swearing. Sad.

Note: It is very short, I wrote it in the middle of the night. I am very new to this but I hope you like it!

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

"How about Hogsmeade this weekend?" Sirius asked, pulling Y/N from the conversation she was having with Lily. She turns around and smiles at him. Butterflies filled his stomach as her bright smile captivated him. 

"Hello to you to Sirius. What about Hogsmeade? We always go, is there a change in plans? Lily, Remus, and I needed to replenish our chocolate stock."  Sirius laughs and looks between the two girls.

"I mean, just the two of us." He shifts on his feet and flashes a grin as her smile widens.

"Like a date?" She asks.

"Yeah, like a date." He agrees. She turns quickly to the redhead behind her, and they exchange a hushed conversation. He once again shifts on his feet, waiting for her to respond. Lily's green eyes stare into him, making him feel uncomfortable. They glared at him, giving him the best friend talk. If you hurt her, I will kill you. You break her, I break you.

“Wait, where you say you've been?

 Who you been with?

 Where you say you're goin'?

 Who you goin' with?”

Three months later:

Sirius' arm rested around her shoulder as they sat on the couch in the common room. They sat leaning into each other, watching the flame crack in front of them. She subconsciously played with his hand, like she did when she was lost in thought. They sat in quiet as everyone had already headed up to bed. Sirius stared at her soft features, lit from the warm fire. Her eyes were fixated on the fire, her eyebrows scrunched.

"What are you thinking?" He asks softly, grabbing her attention. Her face relaxes as it moves from the fire to him.

"I am just wondering how I am going to make it through the rest of Potions without wanting to die." Sirius pulls her into him until she is laying against him.

"The same way we are going to get through this year. Together." 

"Someone is a tad cheesy tonight."

"Only when I am with you," Sirius smirks, knowing what strings to pull. 

"They weren't kidding when they said you were a hopeless romantic." She giggled. Their silence continued for a couple more minutes before she spoke again. "Is it alright if we reschedule our date this weekend? A couple of us wanted to go to Hogsmeade and hang out. You can have a boys day there."

"Who is a couple of us?" He looks to her, and she continues to play with his hands once again.

"Lily, Marlene, Mary, and one of Lily's other friends." She stated simply.

"Who is her other friend?" She remains quiet before responding.

"Severus." Y/n bit her lip, knowing what he might say.

"First name basis, huh?" Y/N sits up and looks at him, confused.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her face was scrunched again, upset at his words. "I'm sorry I felt that it was nicer to call someone by their first name."

"Really, you didn't even want to tell me who it was in the first place, first name or not," Sirius grumbled.

"Maybe because I know you don't like him, and I thought you would feel better if I didn't tell you. I thought it would make you feel better." She argued, pushing herself a bit further away.

"So you thought not telling me would solve everything. I totally wouldn't assume that you were hiding something." He felt something build up inside of him. His jaw clenched as he stared back into the fire.

"What has gotten into you?" When he didn't answer, she went upstairs.

Keep me on my toes, keep me in the know.

She avoided him the next morning and sat next to Remus. She didn't speak a word to the group who had eventually become her second family. She thought about the conversation that night and the insinuation he made about her. Did he really think she would jeopardize what she was waiting for two years for? Sirius sat beside James, staring at the food in front of him. He moved the food around his plate. Something felt different inside him, she wouldn't do that. Would she? Thoughts ran through his head, unstoppable at every conclusion. Everyone liked her, what if he makes a move on her and she doesn't stop him. He could do it out of spite because of me. He was pulled from his thoughts when James nudged his shoulder. Remus and Peter left, probably with Y/N. 

"Alright, why are you moping? What happened between you two?" He asked. Sirius contemplated for a moment and spoke. 

"She wants to break our date to hang out with the girls and Snivellus." His voice growled when he said his name. "But instead, she called him one of Lily's friends to hide that he was going."

"At least she tried to do that, Lily tells me and then proceeds to lecture me about how we treat him. It's not like she would do it to make you angry. That is when you should worry." James explains.

"Do you think she would cheat on me? I feel like she is being distant ever since we started dating. She is beautiful; what if she falls for any guy that sweet talks her? Like I did." Sirius slumped in his seat.

"She wouldn't cheat on you, mate. She isn't that kind of person. She likes you." James reasoned. James let out a sigh and stood, patting Sirius' back. "If we don't leave, now we are going to be late, and Lily will lecture both of us to detention, for fun. Go talk to her, make things right." Sirius sat next to James once again and watched her as she sat next to Lily talking. Deep in conversation, they continued. Lily looked back to see Sirius and sent a glare in his direction. He knew they were talking about him. Sirius knew he had to talk to her. And he did.

I'll wait for it to start, I'll wait for it to end

Keep me on my toes, keep me in the know

Another couple of days went by, Sirius sat in the library with Y/N as she studied for potions. She was consumed with the page in front of her and left him to his thoughts. She wasn't at lunch when they ate. Marlene told them that she had to do something so she wouldn't make it. Why didn't she tell him herself? He wondered what she had to do that she didn't tell him about in person. Was she hanging out with Snivellus? Or maybe the Ravenclaw boy that has been too friendly to her? The only way to find out was to ask.

"Where were you at lunch?" He asked. Her face turned from the paper and onto him.

"Oh, I had to talk to Slughorn about my grade. He said that he thinks I am going to need a tutor." She responded. "Didn't Marlene tell you? I asked her to tell you I wasn't going to make it."

"She said you were doing something. I just wondered why you didn't tell me." Her expression scrunched up again.

"I got the message to you, why is it that I have to tell you everything that I do?" Anger filled up inside him.

"I just wanted to make sure you are safe." 

"How am I not safe? I can take care of myself." She shoved her paper into her bag and stood. 

"Just so you know I'm going to the bathroom, I hope that is okay." She snapped, leaving him sitting at the table.

Spent behind bars

Oh, it's sad to think we just let it be

Prisoners of love

Their arguments seemed to be more common, they can't go a week without one.

"You don't trust me! It's like no matter what I do, it isn't up to your standard! So what is it? Am I not as perfect as you expected me to be?" Y/N asked, her face red and tight.  

"I never said you weren't up to my standards! You mean everything to me." He tried to stay calm, but he couldn't lose her.

"Really?  In my eyes, if I'm not accused of being a whore, I am being accused of lying." Her voice broke, and he could see the water welling up in her eyes.

"I didn't accuse you of being a whore! Even though you go through friends like one. You would rather blow off your own boyfriend to hang out with someone he hates."

"What are you, ten? Maybe if you wouldn't be an ass to him for no reason, then you could see that he isn't too bad. Is it such a bad thing to have friends?" She stepped closer, and her face grew red. 

"I have every reason to be a jerk to him; after all, he is stealing my girlfriend from me, and it is bad for you to have friends who are all male. Are you gathering a future date list just in case?" He growled. She shook her head and let out a weak laugh.

"He isn't trying to steal me, you are doing a great job of pushing me away. So much for not accusing me of being a whore. I loved you, Sirius. I would never do anything to hurt you. Maybe if you weren't so worried about yourself and how things made you look, then you would've known that. I loved everything about you I have for years. I watched you make out in the corner with so many goddamn girls, and I had to sit in front of you at lunch and look you in the eyes. I had to hear you gush about every one of them and that being one of them for just a moment made me think that just maybe I got what I have always wanted. Instead, I get accused of cheating and lying. You have always treated me as second best, and it is no different now because I am second to you. You try so hard to find a flaw or to try to find a reason to leave because you were afraid it would hurt you. Am I right?" Her eyes were red, and cheeks stained with tears. "Did you ever really even care?" He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him again. "Save it. I'm done, we are done."

But when I looked at her I thought of only you

If only there was proof I could use to show it's true

It was their last year at Hogwarts. Sirius hadn't talked to Y/N for a year and a half, their breakup spread throughout their class. The famous Sirius Black was called out in front of many of their classmates by his best friend. He continued like he usually did after breaking up with someone. Sirius tried to act like it never happened, but every time he saw her, her eyes red from crying, his heart broke again. He loved her, but he never wanted to lose her. Marlene asked him out at the beginning of the year, and they have been dating since. She was more of a make-out now talk later kind of girl. At least with Y/N, she didn't have to touch him all the time. She gave him more space. He would see Y/N hanging out with Lily,  Remus, and Mary, but all he wanted was to run to her. As soon as she would see him, she changes direction, or Lily would stare daggers at him. Marlene could usually tell when he was off. She tried to cheer him up, but he always pushed her away. He seemed to critique her. Like he was trying to make her like Y/N. He always thought about her. The one he screwed up with. The way she smiled when he called her name, the feeling he got when she kissed him, the comfort he got from being around her. She meant everything, and he was so worried about losing her that he ended up losing her.

Tearing down those walls, nothing's in our way

I said, nothing's in our way

Crash, fall down

I'll wrap my arms around you now

Just crash, it's our time now

To make this work second time around

He had to be there for James, it was their first child and his godson. He didn't even think she would be there. It had been years since they broke up, and he lost what he thought he loved the most. She sat in their living room next to Lily, holding the baby in her arms. She was talking with her baby voice to the blue bundle. Remus sat on the arm of the chair, looking down at the baby. James ushered Sirius over to the couch, and his eyes locked with Y/N's beautiful bright smile didn't falter. The butterflies filled his stomach again as she beckoned him over to hold the small child. She talked between Remus and Lily, and her voice, long forgotten, made him remember why he fell in the first place. He eventually gave Harry back to Lily and went to the kitchen in search of tea. 

"It is nice to see you, Sirius." Her charming voice pulled him from the cup he started. He turned around and smiled. 

"It has been a while. How have you been?" He asked, leaning against the cupboard behind him.

"I've been great, I have been working at St. Mungo's since we left Hogwarts. I don't think I have had a day off since." She laughed. He stood back up and grabbed the cup from behind him.

"Maybe you could tell me about it over a cup of tea?" He offered her the tea. Her smile widened as she nodded, accepting the cup.

"Still haven't lost your charm, I see."

"Only when I am around you."

Oh, crash, fall down

Just crash, fall down

Just crash, fall down

Just crash, fall down

[lokidiabolus]

The Deal - Bonus

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

or

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I swear NOW it’s done lmao.

Unbetad!

2024, 275th day

It was rather unexpected to see this kind of development, when it came to the form Anthony took in Hell. When Alastor gave it some thought here and there (more often than he would admit, granted), he could imagine Anthony as some sort of cat demon the most. There was something feline about the man when alive – the unpredictability maybe? He wasn’t sure.

So when the Hell opened to swallow yet another sinner – and the sinner was his beau – his expectations were about everywhere but in what he actually saw once he located the trembling creature in the Pentagram outskirts.

A spider demon. White as fallen snow, but covered in his own blood, six arms and two long, long legs and tear stained face, trembling in Alastor’s arms like a frightened child. The last few months of Anthony’s life were fluctuating and the more Alastor had to stay in Hell to deal with Vox, the more Anthony’s light was dimming, and Alastor knew that, he saw what was happening, how the will was weakening and the desire to join him here winning over. A selfish, petty part of him thought good, finally, come to me but at the same time Anthony was young, so, so young to die, it made him indecisive and when was the last time he felt like that? If ever? Not even during his own life and death he never doubted, but with Anthony… he wanted him to be his without remorse. No regrets, no sadness over his life ending.

But now here he was. Finally calming down, the trembling subsiding, the pain from his face easing away until he was just resting in Alastor’s arms, breathing deeply. An adorable spider, caught in the web of his own inner demons… maybe it was fitting.

***

“You are pouting for an hour already.”

“I’m sorry to rain on yer parade, but I’m a fuckin’ spider monster,” Anthony flashed him an unhappy sneer and glared at his reflection in the mirror for umpteenth time, his eyes narrowing, sharp teeth baring just to growl and turn away from it once more. “Who fuckin’ picks this? What did I do to deserve bein’ a six-armed horror?!”

“But imagine how good are you going to be at hugging,” Alastor couldn’t stop himself from grinning, even though Anthony was clearly distressed by his new look, but there was simply no reason to be. He was such an adorable creature, white and pink and soft and cushy. If he wasn’t walking around like a ticking bomb, swearing at each step, Alastor would definitely be trying the new cuddle arrangement. But there was time for everything.

There was eternity for them now.

“I could hug with two arms just fine!”

“Maybe I would like to be hugged with six,” Alastor shot back, which stopped Anthony in his stomping with a defeated sigh.

“But… spider,” he whined, gesturing to his lanky body and abundance of limbs, and ironically all Alastor could see was a cute pouty face and dangerous claws he honestly found threateningly appealing – all six clawed hands with them. Anthony just couldn’t see past the shock yet, but Alastor had means to make him so.

“And a deer,” the red-eyed demon smiled at him from the table he was sitting behind.

“All ya have is a cute Bambi tail and ears, big deal,” Anthony rolled his eyes – his unevenly coloured eyes, Alastor mentally added, which was fascinating – and glanced down at his feet with a frown.

“If that is all you can see, then I suppose I am a lucky man,” Alastor tapped on one of the radios near him and smooth jazz started playing. True, he never had a single issue with his demonic appearance, even when he first arrived here. At this regard he was always a perfectionist, so all of him the others could see was perfectly tailored to show his dominance. Nothing about him was cute, no matter what Anthony was saying. Not the tail, not the ears. He was an Overlord, demons feared him.

Well, except of this particular case, that is. But Anthony was special, he was allowed.

“Oh yeah, I forgot, handsome guys are scary as fuck,” Anthony grumbled, but there was some sort of playfulness in his voice, which signalized his mood was getting better. “Pretty sure all demons just run at sight of ya, oh nooo. Pretty guy inbound, ruuuuun~.”

“They do run though,” Alastor smiled at him sweetly. “Different circumstances though.”

“Yer dad jokes, huh,” the pretty spider smirked at him, softening the rudeness. “Don’t blame them.”

“Now now, Anthony,” Alastor tapped his claws against the table, stopping any other eventual teasing that would definitely follow, because Anthony never left things at only one jab when he had a chance. “If you are done with your moping, how about you come here?”

There was an evident hesitation in the demon’s features, insecurity written in his whole body language, but Alastor was patient and willing to show him there was nothing to feel insecure about. Only proud.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing, and Anthony let out a squeak when a pair of shadowy hands curled around his waist, gently pushing him forward like walking a child on the first day out.

“Aww, hi Al Junior,” Anthony cooed back at the Shadow, which gave him a raggedy grin in return. Evidently too happy to see him, that for sure. Even more evidently appreciative about Anthony’s new look as well. “Haven’t seen ya both in one room yet, that’s new.”

The Shadow waddled him all the way to Alastor’s desk and nuzzled his neck from behind, obviously delighted about the experience. Anthony patted him with one of the six hands, still not that good at coordinating them all, apparently, and Alastor cleared his throat while tapping against the table again.

One more nuzzle and then the shadow slithered away, blending into the walls, and Alastor would have sworn if it could, it would stick its tongue at him.

“Hehe,” Anthony looked happy though, which was amendable, and then finally circled the mahogany desk and stood next to Alastor comfortably sitting in his chair. He let himself to be touched on his thin waist, lower on his hip, then back up on his chest – fluffy chest, if anybody asked, so, so fluffy – and then let Alastor took one of his hands and gently pull him on his lap, sitting on his legs carefully like he could shatter any moment.

“There~,” Alastor crooned. “Not that hard, was it?”

“Might be even easier with the voice,” Anthony suggested meekly, like he was asking for something risky, and Alastor circled one of his arms around his waist and touched his face with the other.

“Whateva you want, darlin’,” he spoke softly and Anthony’s smile widened. “Feelin’ better now?”

“Yeah…” the spider demon nodded curtly. “Still weird, but I’ll get over it.”

“Don worry, I’ll be there fer you every step on da way,” Alastor tilted his head down and gently pressed their lips together. “Promise.”

He was right – six armed hugs were absolute heaven.

***

2024, 277th day

“Huh.”

Alastor took several more steps before he realized Anthony stopped all of sudden, staring at the vending machine sitting between dark corners of dubious streets filled with vermin. He was staring at the lowest button, head tilted, and Alastor returned to him with a silent question in his eyes.

Not that Anthony noticed, his eyes were glued to the vending machine with something akin to wonder, and when Alastor glanced down at the point of the spider’s interest, he noticed Angel Dust written there in all italics.

“Fuckin’ swell, huh,” Anthony mumbled more to himself than to Alastor, judging from his expression. “That this would be here too.”

Alastor knew how Anthony died, of course he did. PCP overdose might have come as a surprise, but at the same time they talked about it when Anthony’s heart was still beating. His coping mechanism, his addiction, his attachment to something that could ease the state of despair. If Vox didn’t get in Alastor’s way, maybe there would be a possibility to prolong his life for few more years.

But then again Alastor would be lying if he said he regretted having Anthony here with him, finally. He wasn’t that much of a good guy for playing a Good Samaritan (if even a little, honestly), and if Anthony wasn’t in such a bad state at the beginning of their deal, he would probably (definitely) drag him to Hell right away, especially after being asked to be killed from the get go.

“Anything you can think of,” Alastor commented. “Any drug. Any alcohol. Any poison. Any weapon. It is all here. And worse.”

“Hell yeah,” Anthony chuckled bitterly and averted his eyes from the nameplate, little raw at the edges, vulnerable. Still so new, still so open. “Oh well. Sorry. Let’s go.”

Alastor made sure they didn’t pass any other vending machine on their way back to the Radio Tower.

***

2024, 285th day

It wasn’t like he wanted to make a habit of spying on Anthony, but once the spider demon left the tower on his own and ventured to the city, he had his reasons to make sure he would make it back home in one piece. Barely any demon would notice the shadow of a person was different unless really looking, and he kind of doubted Anthony would meet anybody like that on his first independent stroll anyway.

There wasn’t much the spider had planned, from the way he behaved outside. He just wandered around, peeking into shops and avoiding trouble, then peeking into more shops, got some clothes and then practiced his totally not six armed spider act when he managed to hide the middle set of arms like they were never there. Alastor didn’t know he could actually do that, but he was impressed anyway.

He had several cat-calling demons around whistling at him while skilfully flipping them off, and in case they wouldn’t be deterred, the Shadow blinked at them menacingly and they scuttered to dark corners like filthy rats.

It was nothing out of ordinary until a dark purple limo stopped at the edge of the sidewalk he walked on, pulling down the window just to reveal the Princess of Hell herself smiling nervously, calling at Anthony in her bright princess-y voice. Now that was interesting for sure.

“Hey,” Anthony blinked in surprise at her sudden invitation to get in, obviously not having a single clue who the girl was. “Daddy told me not to talk to strangers.”

Alastor totally did not choke on that.

The princess laughed, bright and happy and shook her head while opening the doors of the limo wide open.

“We won’t do anything bad,” she assured him, and there was another girl next to her in the car, though Alastor had never met her. Her displeased expression was spot on though. The princess dragged her closer, leaning her near the opening of the doors. “I’m Charlie, this is Vaggie! We just want to talk a little?”

“Ya can talk with me standing right ‘ere,” Anthony crossed all his four arms, eyes looking her up and down, not budging. “Whaddya want?”

“Weeeeell-,”

“What is your name, mister?” Vaggie stared him down pointedly, her voice sharp as a knife. Anthony visibly hesitated, then glanced away to the rest of the street. They talked about it shortly after Anthony got to Hell – not everybody wanted to keep their human name. Alastor did because he was not a fan of aliases, The Radio Demon nickname just happened on its own. Anthony didn’t seem to be in need of getting any kind of demon name either, but now there was an obvious reluctance in his features.

“Angel Dust,” he looked back at them, the drug name slipping past his lips. Intriguing. “Ya can call me Angel, toots.”

Vaggie didn’t look impressed but Charlie was smiling like a sunshine. When they started spouting nonsense about rehabilitating a demon in one of a repurposed royal family’s buildings, Alastor laughed so hard he almost let the Shadow spill it out.

It was only an hour later when Angel burst into the Radio Tower, dropped the shopping bags and yelled:

“Ya won’t fuckin’ believe what I’m just gonna tell ya, I shit ya not!”

Just few days later the 666 News broadcasted Charlie’s plan live (with an immense failure in the reception, but that was expected) and Alastor got a brilliant idea. Out of everybody involved, Charlie was probably on the board of it the most.

***

2024, 300th day

The hotel was a whack. It was a total fucking ruin in dire need of reconstruction. Angel didn’t know what the hell was repurposed here, but it must have been hiding in a basement because the rest of it screamed ancient. Not that any part of Hell was pretty or anything, but at least some of it had class. Ironically the most class was visible in the Lust circle in porn studios, but Angel was not getting even near of that filthy lair, that for sure (not to mention Alastor didn’t even let him wander too close, probably for a good reason. Said something about moths. Angel didn’t question it).

Niffty made a bit more presentable though, scurrying around the hallways like a sonic Roomba and at least the entrance hall looked nicer once Alastor was done with it.

Alastor The Radio Demon, Angel learned. An Overlord even. Vaggie was super into telling him how bad and evil and absolute horror-ish Alastor was, how bloodthirsty and merciless, and Angel just thought of his Bambi tail wagging when they hugged and kind of spaced out.

Sure, guy had a reputation. Angel saw some flattering posters in the 666 News studios with BEWARE !!! HIM and RADIO SOUNDS = STAY AWAY and DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM but if Alastor was anything, a cuddler would be the right description. Also probably a cold-hearted murderer, but nobody was perfect.

He told the girls he was new and had barely any kind of comprehension of Hell’s inner workings back there when they stopped in in the city, and obviously that immediately must have raised red flags when he got to the Hotel just few days later with Alastor leading him in and keeping him close like a pet on an invisible leash (though not really a pet, Angel was just super amused by the height difference, so he stuck close to him for shit and giggles).

“You can stay here, Angel,” Charlie was just telling him in a shushed whisper when they walked through the hallways, Alastor several steps in front of them, looking around with wide smile on his face. Fucker was definitely enjoying it, but even Angel felt rather giddy about it.

“Here?” he imitated her low voice and she quickly glanced towards Alastor humming a tune and twirling his microphone.

“You know. If you need a place to stay,” she gestured towards the deer demon quickly.

Oh. Oh. She thought he feared Alastor or something? Or that Alastor kept him around against his will? A big bad Overlord and a newbie, what else would she think, right?

“Can’t do, Cha-Cha, made a deal with this guy,” he made finger guns pointed at the red-clothed figure with his all four arms. “Hands are tied.”

“Oh,” Charlie’s eyes widened for a second, like she was saying oh no, you fucked for good, gurl and then hesitantly nodded. “I see. But… I mean. It depends on the deal, of course, but… If you needed to stay away or something, you understand?”

“I fear that just won’t do, my dear!” Alastor’s voice thundered through the hallway cheerily, loud as fuck, even though he was standing few meters away from them. “I own his heart, you see. He cannot leave even if he wanted to.”

Charlie’s eyes widened even more, and Angel had to bite his lips to stop himself from laughing. How fucking vague, just playing it like Angel was suffering in the Radio Demon presence.  

“Isn’t that right, my dear Angel?”

“Oh yes, poor me,” the spider demon swooned dramatically. “Can’t leave ever! He’d totally find me and cu-,” ddle me to death, he wanted to say, Alastor’s eyes warning him not to, “-t me to death! Double death even.”

Charlie started to visibly panic. Oh damn, she was so naïve, it was fun.

“Do not be alarmed, princess,” Alastor assured her with a chuckle. “No cutting needed. Angel is quite knowledgeable in his duties.”

“Pffft.”

“Aren’t you, my dear.”

“’bsolutely,” Angel saluted him. “Controlled by fear and fear only.”

There was a mischievous gleam in Alastor’s eyes right before he turned around and continued his way through the raggedy hotel, resuming the tune. Angel patted the small woman on the top of her head, but still wasn’t sure if she got it was all a joke or she unironically feared for his life.

***

2024, 304th day

She feared for his life. She kept on trying to get him to stay overnight in the hotel for therapies and fun activities and movie nights and Angel was wondering how to break it out to her without revealing Alastor was a big softie who liked to snuggle in bed (and honestly he liked it even more now, in Hell, and Angel was wondering if it was because he was fluffier or because Alastor was just happy he didn’t need to keep fearing if he didn’t leave the stove or lights on in Radio Tower when up in the land of living).

From all he gathered during the days he spent in Hell by now, Alastor was a big thing around the Pentagram City. As one of the Overlords and one not hellborn on top of that he harnessed tremendous power through fear, his shady as fuck deals and radio broadcasts where he delivered the carnage for everybody to hear. Angel didn’t listen to any yet, but he was sure he would eventually, when Alastor would feel like letting him on it.

“She thinks yer abusing me,” he said while petting the red hair gently, lying on his back in the bed. The red sheets were silky and felt really nice around him and he doubted Alastor owned anything that was not red or black, like a walking, talking stereotype. Classy though.

“I am abusin’ you,” Alastor agreed from Angel’s fluffy chest, where his face was buried. He had been cuddling Angel for the past hour, like it was one of those days when he didn’t feel like being big bad deer and just stayed in the tower, making Angel spoil him. Then there were days he didn’t feel like being touched at all, unless it was at night when sleeping, and Angel was starting to be a real pro in reading those moods in his natural environment. Sometimes Al Junior gave him a hint even before Alastor appeared in flesh, and it was appreciated. Alastor wasn’t really making a big fuss when touched in his untouchable mood but the way he stiffened was red enough light for Angel to give him space.

“Yeah, yer a menace, I need to pee for like twenty minutes now,” Angel sighed and his poor bladder with him.

“Unfortunate.”

“Well, it’s yer bed I’m gonna pee in, so suit yerself,” he shrugged and Alastor huffed out a laugh. It was nice he could laugh at Angel’s crude jokes now, since before he just told him off.

“Don worry ‘bout the demon belle,” Alastor mumbled sleepily. “She’s just too nice fer her own good.”

“Aw, she’s a cutie tho,” Angel pulled a little at Alastor’s ear and it flicked. “Enthusiastic and all that shit, I guess ye don’t see that down here often.”

“Barely,” Alastor hummed.

“Well, if anybody can rehabilitate a demon, it’s her,” Angel pulled the other ear and it flicked too. Cute.

“Mmm,” his companion let out. “Don’t be too much of a good boy, darlin’. I refuse to part wit you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Angel chuckled warmly at Alastor affectionate speech. “They’d have to kill me to take me away from ya.”

“You ‘nd me both.”

Angel thought if Charlie saw Alastor like this, she’d definitely coo at him. Honestly, he kind of wanted her to, for funsies, but maybe it was better to leave sleeping deer lie.

***

2024, 310th day

“Cupcakes?!”

“Ugh.”

Angel ignored Alastor’s sound of distaste and grabbed Charlie’s hands in all four of his, eyes shining.

“Ya mean like real ones?! Not like… sugar water ones, right?” He was craving sweet things and Hell had shit. The best things came from topside and apparently not as many demons ventured there for ingredients, so Angel was seriously super low on sugar.

“Yeah!” she smiled at him happily and nodded towards the kitchen because he was still holding her hands like a vice, but she seemed to be fine with it. “We thought we could try baking them tonight!”

Another obvious attempt to get him stay the night, he knew. But cupcakes. It was like… the only bait that could potentially work, apart from Frappuccino orgy and pole dancing. She gave a vibe like she wouldn’t condone the latter though.

He sent Alastor a pleading puppy eyes and the demon let out a defeated sigh. He didn’t even need to say anything, he was just done. Angel didn’t blame him, he was bothering him about sweets for days now and since Alastor disliked those, he was driving a hard bargain every damn day.

 It was an obvious plan, really. The baking didn’t start before nine in the evening and Charlie made sure only the patients were attending, which meant only Angel, really (the hotel didn’t have many patients so far, and by many I mean none) and Charlie as a main helper. Vaggie joined them around half past nine with a badly hidden curiosity and Niffty kept running around, sweeping crumbs that had the audacity to touch the floor, and if she had nothing to sweep, she helped them with filling the forms, quite skilled for such a little lady.

“Here I thought Husky would be leading the baking party,” Angel commented when they put the first batch into the oven and Vaggie made a snorting noise somewhere behind the counter.

“Busy pouring drinks for Happy face,” she shot back while mixing the dough in the bowl. “He’s lounging at the bar like a shark, just waiting for a drop of blood.”

“Fitting,” Angel had to agree, though in much better light than Vaggie meant it. Charlie’s enthusiastic expression fell slightly and Angel just knew she got him here for a talk or two. Maybe even an all-nighter.

“Angel,” she started, swiping her hair behind her ear like she always did when nervous. “I know you said you made a deal with him and all-,”

“Careless of you, by the way,” Vaggie added with a sigh. “His deals always have a catch; you can never win.”

Angel leaned against the counter, giving them his full attention, which seemed to encourage Charlie a little. Maybe it was for the best to get them let it out of their chests and then ease their minds, no matter what Alastor would say about it. He knew his partner enjoyed people grasping for straws and worry, but neither Charlie or Vaggie deserved that – in both death and life combined they were the nicest girls he ever talked to, when he didn’t count his mum and sister. Sure, Vaggie was sharp as the spear she used, and Charlie had a naivety of a child, but they meant well, and he had to admit he was fond of them.

“I don’t doubt that,” he made a vague hand gesture for them to continue.

“He found you the moment you got to Hell, right?” Charlie asked with caution of a dancer on a nail bed.

“Well… yeah.” Not a lie. But he already belonged to him anyway, so it was not the moment of import as they thought it was.

“Can you tell us what the deal was about? Maybe we could help you somehow,” she smiled hopefully, and Angel took a deep breath.

“Ah, crap. Cha-Cha, I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously,” he scratched his head. “We were just playin’, you know. It’s not like he’s ever gonna hurt me or anythin’. Or cut me or whatever we said before.”

She didn’t look convinced. Fair.

“The only danger I’m in, and I mean, that’s a fact,” he crossed his arms on his chest. “It’s that he won’t let me get up from the bed when I need to pee. Like. That’s how lazy he is, ya know. Just not moving. Just stayin’ in.”

Okay, might have not been the best example, he realized when Charlie just stared at him and Vaggie’s upper lip curled into a sneer. Did he just make Alastor into a sexual predator?

“We just sleep together,” he assured them with all four hands raised. That didn’t help either. Charlie looked at Vaggie with tight-lipped expression and Vaggie seemed not wanting to be part of the conversation at all.

“No sex,” he added for good measure. “At all. Zero. Nada.”

Disbelieving stares. Even Nifftys’, she stopped sweeping, that’s how much she didn’t believe it.

“I mean… does he look to you as somebody wanting to fuck all night or…?”

“Ugh, Lucifer help us,” Vaggie groaned while smacking her forehead. Charlie looked unsure and huh. Interesting. Sure, Alastor was always making an impression, but he didn’t know Charlie potentially thought of him as somebody with sexual drive. But then again, Angel was probably biased, knowing him for the asexual he was.

“Okay, let me… get you on a secret,” he conceded in a low voice. “I made a deal with Alastor ‘bout four years ago.”

“I thought you said you’re new?” Charlie blinked in surprise and Vaggie raised an eyebrow. She was definitely onto him now; he saw the realization in her face.

“You were still alive,” she said in a shocked voice. “You made a deal with him when you were still a human.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed her words with a small smile. “I summoned him on Christmas Eve, and we made a deal that day. And four years later I fucked up my life and here I am. He just collected what belonged to him, is all. He’s not forcing me to do anything, ya know. I wanna be with him on my free will.”

“Or so you think,” Vaggie added with a frown. “Never thought about it?”

“No, never,” he refused immediately. “I get it, toots. He’s a big, scary Overlord here. He kills people. I mean this is Hell, of course he won’t be paintin’ their nails, right.”

She just stared at him with the same expression.

“But ya gotta believe me on this. Al is… well. He’s…” he rubbed his neck with a nervous laugh. “I don’t wanna sound corny as fuck. I just like ‘im. Like a lot.”

The oven dinged into the heavy silence and Charlie was the first who reacted, probably happy for a break in the flow. The cupcakes looked like a treat and Angel was kind of glad when they got into decorating and neither of the girls pressed him for more. Niffty did give him shifty looks though, probably still thinking they were going at it as rabbits behind the closed doors.

 Alastor was still at the bar sipping bourbon from a tumbler when Angel was finally allowed to leave the kitchen around midnight, full to bursting. They burned the first batch a little, but he blamed the talk rather than their culinary skills.

“You seem unperturbed,” the red eyed demon commented when Angel sat down next to him and put a small basket with cupcakes on the counter. Husker behind the bar eyed it with disdain and took a swing of his bottle instead.

“Well, takes more than that to ruffle my feathers, ya know,” he grinned. “Not amused by my choice of words in there?”

“I quite approve, actually,” Alastor sipped his drink again. “Except of making me into a sexual deviant, thank you very much for that, darlin’.”

“That one slipped out on accident,” Angel chuckled. The expression of the girls made the misstep worth it though. “I kinda didn’t want to give out yer a cuddle monster but had no idea how to explain properly. Charlie might have troubles to look ya in the eyes for some time.”

“I can live with that,” Alastor shook his head. “I will make sure to let you get up when you need to pee from now on at least.”

“Somebody kill me again…” Husker grumbled and dragged down the cage with a grunt, locking the alcohol behind it. “I’m fucking leaving.” And with that he shuffled away from the bar with an unhappy flap of his wings until they were alone in the hall, staring at the place he disappeared at.

Angel snorted and Alastor drank the rest of his bourbon before standing up as well and offering a hand for Angel to take.

“Shall we go home then? Or do they want to keep you here so I can’t ravish you tonight?” he asked like it was no biggie to use home and ravish in one breath and Angel felt his face heating up, probably from all that sugar, before he took the hand in his and stumbled up.

“Home…” he mewled, grabbing the basket. “Please.”

“As you wish, cher.” Alastor’s voice was low and warm and Angel really had to think more on how to express to the girls on how much he loved this man, no voodoo involved.

***

2024, 325th day

There were several parlours in the hotel, most of them in terrible state of neglect, except of one Angel found by sheer coincidence one day and then made it his secret hideout for lazing around with music on. He got a permission from Charlie to paint the walls and adjust the place to his own liking, since it was in the second floor and basically nobody came there anyway. He planned to ask her for a pole as well, but that could wait – one step at the time, as they say.

He mostly used it for busying himself, since there was always something to do, and if he didn’t feel like working, he could always just dance to songs Alastor didn’t find fancy enough to play in the Radio Tower and it did the trick.

To Angel’s delight Alastor visited the Hotel often, but even when he didn’t have time or didn’t feel like it (though he never explicitly stated I don’t feel like going today, really, but Angel could tell when he had to do something and when he just said it), Angel ventured here by himself, much to Charlie’s excitement every time she saw him (it was actually pretty heart-warming, really. Though it also kind of sucked he felt welcomed in Hell a lot more than he ever did during his life).

“Look at you, so busy,” a static voice interrupted Angel’s reminiscing while absentmindedly scraping the remaining tattered wallpaper off the wall, and before he could turn around in surprise, Alastor was already standing next to him, inspecting the wall with raised eyebrows before glancing back down on Angel squatting at the bottom. “No fun therapy today? Or is the manual labour Charlie’s idea.”

“Yer the only fun around here, Smiles,” Angel grinned at him cheekily. “Didn’t expect ya today though.”

It was one of those I have something to do excuses while meaning I just don’t feel like rainbows today and Angel respected that. Seeing him here all of sudden was a nice bonus and he wondered if he even checked with Charlie first or she had no idea he arrived.

“Surprises are my speciality,” the Radio Demon said, eyes skimming from every part of the parlour critically. “Which this place is, to be honest. Less of a dump than the rest of the hotel, though.”

“Yeah, it’s more neglected than tattered,” Angel agreed and put the scraper down. “Yer gonna help me paint?” He nudged Alastor’s leg with his knee and the Radio Demon seemed to ponder that. He was more of a let do my totally not cursed magic do the work rather than actually attending himself – unless it came to cooking – so Angel didn’t expect him to actually take off his coat, neatly fold it on one of the barstools and roll up his sleeves, which meant business. Angel liked when it meant business. He liked it a lot.

“I can do that for a while,” Alastor hummed and the spider demon didn’t know if he was that bored or if it was his way of asking for attention but both were cute, especially when he meant to join Angel in this. “Can’t let you have all the fun now, can I.”

“Tsk tsk, what would others say, an Overlord painting walls by hand,” Angel stood up, his upper set of hands dropping on Alastor’s shoulders and the demon let him with half lidded eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Hmm.”

“And by an ordinary fuckin’ paint too. Not even blood!” he gasped and Alastor took him by his waist and pulled him close.

“Mmmmm.”

“Yer riskin’ your reputation just for me?” the spider demon leaned back in theatrical swoon. “Oh, Alastor!”

“Literally only for you,” the deer demon purred back at him, holding him by the waist, letting him lean back so his head almost touched the floor, and if somebody walked in at that point, it would raise some serious questions, especially when Angel curled one of his legs around Alastor’s hips.

That’s why Charlie did arrive at exactly that point, Angel’s name on her lips, just to stutter to complete halt in between the doors, staring.

“Oh… hey, Princess,” Angel greeted her from basically upside down, Alastor not letting go or making any other move to remedy their positioning. “Didn’t hear ya comin’.”

“I… can see that,” her eyes switched from one to another. “Wanted to ask if you want to join us for lunch… both of you.”

She peered at the Radio Demon with raised eyebrows and that apparently made him get back to reality since he finally pulled Angel back up – still not letting go of his waist – but his hands were mostly just resting rather than holding. Angel dutifully put his leg down as well and earned a small cough from the princess.

Awkward.

“Would be my pleasure, sweetheart,” the static buzzed in a jolly tune and the Radio demon focused back on Angel, his expression softer than Angel would expect, given Charlie’s ogling. “Now shall we, darlin’?”

“We shall,” Angel grinned back at him and genuinely didn’t expect Alastor to grab his face and smooch him on the spot, then let go and leave the parlour with a happy twirl of the microphone he summoned out of thin air.

Charlie’s jaw was probably on the floor, but Angel’s was kinda too, so at least they matched.

***

“I’m just saying it looked like I interrupted something intimate, that’s all!”

“Juuuust please bury me somewhere alreadyyyyyy,” Angel whined, and Charlie patted him gently on his head like a dog she got in the pet store. Vaggie looked mildly interested in the conversation and that was bad news. They were the only ones in the dining room now, Alastor, that sneaky bastard, just poofed home once they finished the lunch, singing some happy tune and obviously left all this to Angel to deal with. Husker disappeared almost immediately, definitely knowing something horrible was going to happen and Angel didn’t even see Niffty the whole lunch.

“I think it was rather sweet?” she tried again, and Angel groaned and hid his head between his legs. “I suppose it gave me a bit more perspective of you two now!”

“Seriously, what did happen there?” Vaggie stared at them both, perplexed, as if she wasn’t here at the lunch where Charlie asked Alastor if he ever thought of spending the night in the hotel with Angel, in Angel’s room, to get the full hotel experience. She specifically said Angel’s room because she had no fucking filter and probably also because Alastor seemed to mightily approve of her choice of words and Angel’s utter mortified expression. The more frustrated Angel became, the wider was Alastor’s smile.

“They just kissed,” Charlie happily announced and yeah, Vaggie’s expression of total and utter disgust was spot on. “But it was cute!”

“Ya thought we were fuckin’ there at first!” Angel huffed. “And now ya say it was cute?”

“Well, you weren’t…” she rolled her hands around. “You know. And I know you said you don’t do that! So, I believe you!”

“Now ya believe me,” his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Because of one obnoxious smooch?”

“Was it obnoxious?”

“He made a show out of it, ‘fcourse it was!” Angel groused, expecting Alastor to be real smooth about it later. Just helping he was going to say, for sure. Totally not making Angel want to hide under a rug and stay there because he was caught smooching the Radio Demon (though anybody else doing the smooch would be resting in pieces by now, so maybe it was more like a praise than a handicap, but still) and the Princess of Hell being the witness.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before though,” Charlie sat a bit closer, clacking the chair with her until she could put her arm around Angel’s shoulders. “I guess I’m still a little surprised to see Radio demon actually possessing a beating heart.”

“A heart of his own, not the hearts he had stolen,” Vaggie added matter-of-factly. “Just for the record.”

“Thanks, Vaggie,” Angel huffed, but she was probably right anyway. “But it wasn’t like… why would one stupid show-off kiss make ya suddenly play a different tune?”

“Weeeell…” Charlie nervously looked away and Angel just knew.

“Ya were totally eavesdroppin’!” he pointed at her accusingly. “Holy shit, Cha-Cha, the Princess of Hell and ya just-!”

“Okay, okay!” she batted his hand down, her cheeks redder than normally he would even say steam was coming from her ears. “I might have been eavesdropping here and there-.”

“Here and there?” Angel couldn’t believe that. “So, there was more? Damn, you only act like an innocent girl, huh?”

“I was just worried!” she squeaked like a toy being squeezed too much. “I thought if he was being bad to you, I could save you somehow, but…”

Angel felt like the words actually physically smacked him over the face. Charlie, the bloody Princess of Hell, a hellborn demoness that knew him for how long? A month? This girl right there was caring for his wellbeing? She was ready to save him from an Overlord? Just because… because of what?

“But… why?” he couldn’t help but stare at her, eyes wide. “Why would ya go that far for a random sinner?”

Her face lit up with the most honest smile he had ever seen, like a puppy being petted for the first time even after peeing on the carpet, and Angel’s lower lip trembled in repressed sob she absolutely noticed, because of course she would.

“Because I care, Angel,” she pulled the chair even closer, so they were touching with their sides. “You’re my friend!”

“I bet ya say this to every girl ya meet,” he laughed trough ugly sobs and damn, that was so humiliating, he was going to need a real therapy after this.

“Just roll with it,” he heard from Vaggie, but couldn’t even look at her because Charlie was suddenly smooshing his face against her chest in a bear hug, petting him with cooing noises.

Holy shit, yeah, that was so going into a mental vault, Angel was so thoroughly embrassed.

And the worst thing was – he liked it. It was the nicest, warmest, the most awkward and cringiest thing he had ever experienced, and he did lots of shit in his life for this to top it all. Even Vaggie patted him awkwardly on his back in her way of showing support, and it only made him sob more.

It was probably good Alastor was fucking gone for this. That would be suicidal.

***

“Now wasn’t Charlie nice?”

Obviously Alastor was aware of everything. Angel didn’t even question it, especially not when he saw Al Junior peering at him from behind the Radio Demon, his smile wide and raggedy, as if he was not a spy master of gigantic proportions.

Alastor’s study was all lit up with the owner sitting behind the table, smiling at Angel softly. He only had a red shirt slightly unbuttoned from the top and his pants, but otherwise the rest was off, and it somehow added to the hominess Angel felt in the Radio Tower.

“Ya knew she was spying on us, didn’t ya,” Angel walked closer, stopping only a step away from the table. “Several times.”

“I would be a terrible Overlord if anybody could spy on me so easily, wouldn’t you agree,” Alastor grinned proudly, because obviously he would be proud of that in this regard. “There were no words able to sway the demon belle anyway. I may not be safest bet in any other regard, but for you, I am the safe heaven.”

“Mmm.”

“I was just trying to help.” There it was. “The situation was rather dire, as you sure agree.”

“I’m not upset, Al,” Angel breathed out with a small laugh. “I’m just… kinda offline right now. It was tiring as fuck.”

Alastor understood, that much was obvious. When he stood up and reached for Angel’s hands so he could lead him to the bedroom for a good night sleep, Angel had a fleeting worry of this all not being real, of waking up eventually in the hospital because somebody found him in the dirty bathroom of the club he overdosed himself in, and they managed to save him. And he would so fucking hate it he’d probably just kill himself with a yoghurt spoon or something the moment they’d leave him alone, just to end it.

But when Alastor pulled him close to his body and raked his clawed hand through his hair, the fear disappeared like a fleeting dream. He was where he was supposed to be. And he was happy he could cling to Alastor like a lifeline and never let go.

“Anthony,” Alastor’s static-less voice broke the gentle silence. “You touch my tail one more time and you lose dat hand.”

“That’s fine, have five more,” Angel grinned into Alastor’s chest and took the leap of faith.

[harley-sunday]

10 Things I Hate About You [02]

Summary: Based on the RomCom ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ we follow the reader as she tries to win over Bucky Barnes so his best friend can finally go on a date.Entry for @arrowsandmixtapes​ RomCom Challenge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (f) & Steve Rogers x Maria Hill

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

AN: This was a fun chapter to write, hope it’s a fun chapter to read as well. Please let me know what you think :) ♥

Masterlist

You find the gym empty, which is weird for this time of day, but honestly right now it suits you just fine. You have twenty minutes before Barnes will join you for your training session and you want to get this out of your system before then. No need for him to see you like this. Although you're sure he already knows. Privacy is hard to come by here.

Setting up the target, you don’t bother replacing the Iron Man outline he must have used the last time he was here, because this time you might share whatever it is Barnes has against him. You grab the bag of knives you brought from the supply room before you make your way to the other end of the room and dump them on the floor unceremoniously by tipping the bag over. You take as many as you can hold into your hand and clear your mind, focusing on what you're about to do. There’s at least twenty feet between you and the target now, and while it takes you a few throws to get into the right rhythm, after a short while you’re hitting it throw after throw, more knives finding their way into the bull’s eye than during last week’s session. 

You’d like to say it’s because you’ve been practicing, or simply because you’ve found out you’re a natural, but the truth of the matter is that you’re pissed off and anger has always been a good motivator for you.  

Barnes comes in early and so you’re still working through your anger when he joins you, your throws becoming more and more frantic, and a sheen of sweat covering your body. Must be quite the sight, you think, but at least he’s smart enough not to comment on it. The last knife finds its way a little off center as it flies towards the target, and like his did last week, it hits the handle of one of the knives already there before it bounces off and lands on the ground.

Using your shirt you wipe some of the sweat off your face and set out to collect your knives so you can start your training session, when suddenly you feel his hand on your arm, holding you in place. 

“You ok?” 

You let your eyes fall to his hand before you look up at him. People have told you you tend to look like you’re about to hurt someone on average but you guess you really must be shooting daggers now, because he actually lets go of you and takes a step back. 

His hands go up in defense, but he actually looks worried, “That bad, huh?”

Some of your anger resolves then, because fuck, this is Barnes, the guy’s lived through enough to not have to bear the brunt of your anger, and so you shake your head, “Not really.” Then, as an afterthought, “Don’t worry about it, Barnes.”

“Bucky,”

“What?”

“Barnes is reserved for when I’m at work,” he grins, “just call me Bucky.” 

You’re about to tell him, “Ok,” but there’s a group of recruits coming in then, talking loudly until they spot you, their voices quieting down almost instantly, and so you keep quiet too. You throw them what you hope is a look that tells them to mind their own fucking business. You have a reputation to uphold after all. 

He just stares at them from over your shoulder, shaking his head before he looks back at you. “Come on,” he says then, motioning for you to follow him as he walks towards the target and collects the knives, dropping the bag off at the locker room door, muttering something about getting that later. 

As you throw one last look over your shoulder you see Nat coming in, who winks at you before she tells the recruits to stop glaring and get into position. You smile back at her before you follow him to one of the side doors that leads directly outside. The sunlight has you blinking as you try to adjust your eyes, the warmth of the afternoon sun a welcome change from the cold temperature in the gym. 

He turns around and asks you the same question again, “You ok?”

You nod this time, because you feel a bit better already, “Getting there.” 

He motions for you to sit down on the grass and when you do he joins you, sitting down so he’s facing you, pulling his knees up and letting his wrists rest on top of them, his hands playing with a dandelion he picked just moments earlier. He looks at you then, “Does this have anything to do with Steve having to join you on your next mission?”

“Babysitting me, you mean?” 

He chuckles, “Yeah.” 

Part of you doesn’t want to talk about it any more than that, because this moping around feels safe and at least no one bothers you when you’re in one of your ‘moods’, as Nat likes to call them. Bucky seems genuinely worried about you though and so you start, “Tony and I have this deal,” you look up at him and see him nod, taking this as your cue to continue, “technically I’m part of the team, but I only do solo missions.”

“Because of Padua, right?”

“Right,” you reply. He must have heard what happened, and if he hasn’t he doesn’t ask about it so you don’t bother to explain any further. “Then this morning I get assigned a new mission only to find out in the briefing room that Tony wants Steve to fucking chaperone me!” You scoff, “Gave me some bullshit excuse about quality control, that they want to know if I’m still carrying out my missions to the set standard.” You curse quietly. 

“Why?” Bucky seems as surprised as you are.

You sigh. “Last week I was on a mission to extract some files that supposedly link HYDRA to funding the 2016 presidential campaign,” you clear your throat, “I used explosives to draw my target out of his hiding place but apparently Tony thinks I blew up a civilian car just for shits and giggles, allowing my target to escape and causing substantial damage to a few public buildings while I was at it.”

“I know I made a mistake, ok? It’s not like I’ll do it again next time.” You sit up, “but now I don’t get to go on any solo missions until I prove my worth again.” You tut, “Fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I like really Steve, but I don’t need someone tagging along, watching my every move and then tell me what to do when I’ve been going at it alone for the last few years.”  

“Welcome to my world,” Bucky counters almost immediately and in such a deadpan manner you can’t help but laugh.  

“I’m working on it, Maria, ok?” you tell her before she even has a chance to say anything. She’s found you in the kitchen where you’re unloading the dishwasher rather aggressively because it’s your fucking turn today and God forbid you forget to do one of your chores around here. Thor, surprisingly, has already lectured you about the importance of taking your responsibilities seriously twice before, and that was just because you forgot to clean the lint out of the dryer after you used it, and you’re not sure you can make it through a third time without losing your damn mind. 

She holds her hands up in defense, “Not what I was going to ask, but sure.”

“Sorry,” you try to smile at her, “rough day.” 

“I know,” she replies. She leans against the counter, “I was just coming to see how you’re doing.” 

She and Steve were in the briefing room with you when Tony told you about his plan and so she got to witness firsthand how you react when you feel betrayed by the two men you trust most. Tony likened it to a tantrum unprecedented by anything a two-year old has ever thrown. Steve never said anything but looked genuinely scared of you. So to say you’re surprised Maria’s even talking to you now is an understatement.

“I’m ok,” you admit, “my training session with Bucky turned into somewhat of a therapy session, so I got most of my anger out.”

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and starts to walk away. Then she turns around, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, “But I guess Steve’s not the only one who gets to call him Bucky anymore.”

The mission was supposed to be simple. Fly in, gain access to the main server of the facility without making too many casualties, extract the files needed, and be back before dinner. On your own it would probably take around four hours on site and so you figured now that you’re with Steve you could get the job done in just under two. You might be wrong. 

“Rogers?” you try again, pressing the comms unit into your ear a little more, “Rogers, report.” Nothing but static fills the air and you’re starting to get worried. He’s been silent for at least five minutes, and even though you agreed to split up so you could cover more ground faster, right now you wish you hadn’t. You decide to retract to your last shared location, but not before you try again, “Rogers, I have what we came for. Can you please report?”

Still nothing. 

You let out a frustrated groan. Protocol says you should go back to the Quinjet, call for backup, and then wait it out until they arrive. Of course, you think to yourself, Captain fucking America could be dead by then but at least you’ll have followed protocol. Tony would be so proud. You check your gun, confirming what you already knew, still fifteen rounds left and so you make a quick decision, muttering a quiet, “Fuck protocol.” before you set off to where you last saw Steve.

“Language.” 

“I’ll let Tony know you’re perfectly capable of going out on your own,” Steve says as he turns to you after he’s put the Quinjet on autopilot.

“Thank you,” you reply. There's venom dripping through your voice and even though it really isn’t aimed at him you can see Steve physically recoil. Great. Now you’ve upset Captain America. This might be worse than getting him killed. 

Besides Nat, Steve is the one you’re closest too, not in the least because he’s the one who convinced you to join all those years ago on his first ever recruitment mission. And while Nat was the one who got him up to speed with modern technology after he got defrosted, you were the one who supplied him with endless lists. Lists of what movies to watch, which albums to listen to, and books you thought he’d like to read. Then, for every year he missed you made a recap, collecting them all in a binder that you handed him on his first birthday after he came out of the ice. 

And while Nat always bears the brunt of your moods in stride, up until now you’ve always been careful not to be too bad-tempered around Steve. It’s hard to pinpoint why, but you guess it’s because he’s so sweet-natured that you’d feel embarrassed if he’d ever did see you lose it, even though he did get a taste of it in the conference room earlier this week, you remind yourself. Woo, boy. Not good.

“Sorry about that,” you say, your voice much softer now. 

“It’s ok,” he says, because of course he does. 

“It’s just-” you sigh. You don’t want to sound like a whiny brat, but it still upsets you you’re being supervised, “I don’t know. It feels like Tony has it out for me for some reason.” 

“Listen, don’t be too hard on Tony, ok?” Steve turns towards you with an apologetic smile. “Ross has been watching our every move for a while now, accusing us that we’re taking unnecessary risks and Tony just doesn’t want to take any chances.”

“Noted,” you reply with nod. You lean back in your chair, watching Steve out of the corner of your eye. He really is one of the good guys, you think, determined then to do whatever you can to make sure Maria can ask him out on a date. They both deserve some happiness, you decide. 

You don’t see Bucky until next Monday, the mission you went on with Steve having interfered with your Thursday session. By now you’ve moved on to actual hand-to-hand combat after you passed some sort of knife-throwing exam he had you go through at the start of the afternoon. 

“Alright,” he says as he gathers his hair and ties it into a loose bun at the base of his neck. “We’ll run through it together. Half-speed, ok?”

“Ok.” You resume your position, back towards him so he can attack you from behind after he’s explained exactly what you’re supposed to do to actually block his attack this time. Taking deep breaths to prepare you for the inevitable even though you know what’s coming he still surprises you when he suddenly grabs you. 

Remembering what he’s told you, you grab a hold of the hand that’s holding your neck, while at the same time you turn around, mimicking a punch with your other hand, before your almost kick him in the goods. 

“Good,” he says with a grin. “We’re going to try that again, but full-speed and no holding back this time, ok?”

“You sure?” you counter with a sly smile, eyeing the loose sweatpants he’s wearing. 

“Very,”

You shrug, “Alright, let’s do it.”

He has you walking from one end of the gym to the other, so the attack will even be more of a surprise and you’re almost at the halfway point when you feel his hand on your neck. His grip is tighter than it was before, letting you know you’re playing for keeps now. 

You repeat the motions you’ve come to memorize, actually punching him this time, but hesitate when you lift your foot up to kick him. 

He takes advantage of your momentary distraction and hooks his leg behind yours, taking you down in one swift move. You’re on your back before you know it, his arm across your chest to hold you in place. There’s a gleam in his eye when he says, “Should have gone for the goods, sweetheart.” 

“Speaking about goods,” you say with a wink, letting your eyes drop to where his arm is draped across your chest before you look back up at him again, “you just skipped first base and went straight to second, Barnes. I’d say you owe me a drink for that.” 

“Oh shit,” he mutters, quickly pushing himself off. His cheeks are slightly more red when he holds out his hand to you to help you to your feet. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure him, because you can tell he’s genuinely upset. He still doesn’t look convinced so you try again, “Really, Bucky, don’t worry about it.”

He smiles then before he gently pushes you towards the locker room, “Let me at least buy you that drink some time then.”

[reckless-snd-brave]

Not Enough- Lip Gallagher

This is going to be a plus size reader fic, because honestly there aren’t enough out there. It takes place before Lip gets with Mandy. Also, message me to request, I’m always open.

Lip Gallagher x plus size reader/ chubby reader

Warnings: cussing, insecurity, mentions of body shaming

(GIF isn’t mine)

You were walking with Ian, your best friend, from school. You had known the Gallagher family for years, and you had become family. Considering your own family wasn’t great, it gave you a good support system.

The topic of discussion was Ian’s boy problems, and you listened to him. You always offered to help Ian out. It never bothered you who he liked.

Ian cleared his throat. “So, on the subject oh guy issues. What are you gonna do about Lip?” He asked, making you groan. “Hey, you made me promise not to tell anyone. But you need to.”

You followed him into the house, setting your bag down with his. “I sure as hell don’t, Ian. It’s stupid.” You told him, taking your coat off and hanging it up.

Footsteps coming from the stairs caught your attention. Speak of the devil, there Lip stood. His hair messy like usual, and he was still in his pajamas. Ian had told you he skipped, but not why. You looked away and tried not to catch his eye.

This is how it had been lately. You avoided him like the plague, going out of your way to do so. You used to be close, but Karen happened and you couldn’t handle it. She used him, played with him. You tried telling him, tried to knock sense into him but there was just no point anymore. One hell of an argument occurred and you stormed off, pissed and done with trying.

“What’s stupid?” Lip casually asks, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bowl and cereal box. He looked up at the two of you, expectantly.

You just rolled your eyes, putting your coat back on. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Gallagher.” You sneered quietly, grabbing your bag and walking out.

Lip looked confused. “What the hell was that about?” He asked his brother, taking a bite of his cereal.

Ian sighed, taking a seat at the table. The whole dilemma had started to irritate him too. He loved them both, but it was starting to get old. Ian understood Y/N’s problem but if she would just admit it, things would go smoother. Ian looked at Lip, deciding he should leave it to them.

“You should ask her. I’m definitely not the one who pissed her off.” Ian stated simply, not giving anymore detail.

Later you had walked to the Alibi to waste time. Kevin always listened and offered advice, maybe that’s what you needed. Taking a seat at the bar, Kevin turned to smile at you. Seeing that you didn’t look happy, the smile faded. He got you a coke and sat it in front of you.

“Why the long face, buttercup?” Kevin asked, leaning against the bar. “Wait, let me guess. Boy issues?”

You groaned loudly, dramatically dropping your head to your arms on the bar top. “Is it that obvious?” You asked, voice coming out muffled.

“No, I just know from the look on your face.” Kevin said, matter of fact like. Unfortunately you could be readable sometimes. “Look, I know it sucks, but you really gotta stop wasting time on someone who can’t see what’s in front of them.”

You lifted your head, listening as Kevin spoke his wise words. “Kev, I’m just not...enough.” You told him. “I’m too much. I’m fat. I can’t look like other girls, and how is anyone going to like a girl like me? I could probably crush someone.” You ranted, letting your insecurities get to you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Kevin sighed, grabbing a napkin for you. “You listen to me Y/N L/N, you are enough. There ain’t nothing wrong with having curves. You are not fat, you’re beautiful. Don’t beat yourself up like that, okay?” Kevin looked at you, sad to hear you talk like that about yourself.

You took the napkin and wiped the stray tears. You figured that tonight you’d probably have to crash with Kevin and Vee. You just couldn’t handle watching Lip with Karen anymore, couldn’t hear about it. How the hell are you supposed to get over someone you couldn’t avoid? You sat with your sorrow, thinking way too much. It’d probably been a little after 12 when Lip walked in.

You moved to get up, to leave. But Lip caught your wrist, his hold tight but not painful. It took everything in you to not run into his arms for comfort. You pulled you arm away and faced him, your tears not bothering to stop. The genuine look of surprise and hurt in his blue eyes only made you more furious. What a stupid idiot, how could he think things could just go back to normal?

“What?” You barked, looking at him angrily. That fire in your eyes as he looked into them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeming lost for words.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “For someone so smart, you sure are a dumbass.” You insulted him. “You wanna know what’s wrong, Philip Gallagher, huh? After weeks, you want to know now?” You couldn’t help but yell, frustration pouring out through your words.

“Yeah, Y/N! That’s why I asked.” He raised his own voice. “I thought maybe giving you space would work, that eventually you come talk to me. But now you avoid me, look at me like I’ve just slapped you.”

“You might as well have! It would hurt a hell of a lot less than seeing you with her!” You yelled, not realizing just how loud you were. “She doesn’t care about you, Lip! She knows she can get you to do whatever she wants, that you will come running to her. I hate her because she doesn’t love you, but I do Lip.”! I always have!”

The room fell somewhat quiet, Kevin and Lip looking just as shocked as you. It had slipped past your tongue and flew right out of your mouth. Well great, cats out of the fucking bag. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, regretting the words that had come out.

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it. I don’t fucking care.” You told him, in a quieter tone. “I hope you you enjoy her using you.” With that, you left.

A few days passed by, and you tried your best to move forward. You wished you hadn’t cared at all, that you could just erase all feelings for him. Life isn’t that easy. Ian tried, he really did. He wanted to make you feel better, he wanted to help fix this. But the damage was done, and there was no going back.

You laid in bed, the spare room at Vees. You had been moping lately, letting the hurt consume you. A bad case of heartbreak, is what Vee said. It did feel like your heart had been stomped on, and carelessly thrown right back into your chest. All you could think of, was how much time he was probably spending with her.

There was a knock at the door before it opened, the creaking making you aware. “You have a visitor.” Vee told you quietly.

When you did respond, the other side of the bed dipped down under someone else’s weight. You just laid still, hoping that they would just leave.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Lip finally said, his voice soft but his tone hurt. “All the time I spent with the wrong girl. I couldn’t see that you actually liked me.”

You took a shaky breath. “Don’t pity me, Lip. I don’t want it, or need it. I’m a big girl and I’ll get over it.” You told him, still facing away from him.

“I don’t want you to get over it. I’m not pitying you, Y/N.” He argued. “God, just look at me. Please.”

You reluctantly turned around, shifting with the covers before laying down facing him. It broke his heart, seeing your puffy red eyes, knowing you had cried over him hurting you. Damn, did he really fuck it up.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.i didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said, reaching out to brush your tears away.

“Lip, don’t.” You warned, moving away from him. “Don’t do this. Don’t look at me with those blue eyes and say you’re sorry.” You sat up. “I’m an idiot for ever thinking that you’d be interested in me, of all people.”

Lip followed your actions, scooting closer. “Y/N, you don’t get it. Kevin told me what you said about yourself, and you’re so wrong.” He moved to stand in front of you. “Yeah, you don’t look like most other girls, but to say that you aren’t attractive? That’s wrong. You’ve got this bright and beautiful smile, it takes my breath away every time I see it. Your laugh, it makes me happy. I’ve always thought that your body was perfect.” He tried reasoning with you.

“Karen was my distraction. I didn’t want to drag you into my shitty life. You deserve better, to be happy and with someone who actually deserves you, and that wasn’t me. Or, I thought it wasn’t.” He sighed, gently grabbing your hands and squeezing them. “I’m just asking for one chance, please?”

After everything, you couldn’t say no. It may end badly, but you’d never know if you didn’t give it a shot. So, you nodded. The bright look in his eyes and his smile made you feel warm and happy. He playfully tackled you to the bed, pulling you close to him and giving your forehead a kiss. His body was relaxed, and he looked much calmer.

“I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I promise.” He whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you dork.”

[wrong-as-rain]

Walk the Line Chapter 1/??

(maybe 1/1, I’m highly unreliable) Summary: In which Yuki and Kyo fear the same things, and neither of them knows how to talk about it

Yuki expected to wake up in darkness, so sitting straight u into a room softly illuminated by moonlight was a relief even though the quiet of the sleeping house did little to chase the echos of Akito’s voice from his mind.

“No one would want to see you anyway, you’re a freak. Disgusting.”

Kyo grit his teeth against Akito’s words bouncing around his skull and took another deep breath of the night air and tried to get back to his meditation. If he wasn’t going to sleep at least he could try to catch a break from his thoughts and enjoy the outside and the skyline from Shigure’s roof while he still could. That thought just sent him spiraling again.

‘This is what happens when you bottle everything up for too long’

Yuki thought, searching his mess of a floor for a pair of shoes that he could slip on. It’s not like he had a choice. The only person who was even willing to acknowledge the reality of Yuki’s entire childhood was Shigure. He could probably talk to Ayame about it, but that would require talking to Ayame. Tohru always wanted to help but as much as he loved her there were some things he was probably never going to tell her about.

How was he supposed to explain that sometimes he just couldn’t stand feeling trapped in the dark between the four walls of a house.

Kyo wasn’t surprised to hear someone climbing onto the roof behind him, he had just assumed it was Tohru.

“Hey, you alright?” Kyo started, but the warmth drained from his voice when he saw Yuki. “Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, idiot. I don’t own the roof.” Honestly. Sometimes Yuki got so weird about just… existing, and it annoyed the fuck out of Kyo. Normally he filed that under ‘not his damn problem’ and just ignored it but he didn’t have the patience tonight. He braced for a punch or something. Normally he couldn’t say anything in this house without starting some kind of conflict. It was more alarming when Yuki just flopped down next to him without saying anything. It kind of felt like sitting on a time-bomb.

Eventually, Kyo stopped bristling and waiting for Yuki to pick a fight. Eventually, Yuki actually sat up, and focused on the night sky. Eventually, the sun rose.

Kyo didn’t understand how Yuki looked fine in the morning. He wasn’t used to not getting a full night of sleep, or having time for morning exercise and meditation. Kyo had barely tamed his hair and had almost fallen asleep at breakfast. Yuki, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as always. Either he was infuriatingly good at hiding it, or Yuki just tended to act like he did on a daily basis because of a fucked sleep schedule.

If Kyo tried to pick a fight before school, Yuki had failed to notice. He’d been too busy trying to eat and brace himself against dealing with Kakeru first thing in the morning to pay any attention to the cat beyond acknowledging that he really looked like shit today.

Kyo glared at Yuki from across the room as he talked to Haru. Usually he had better things to think about but sometimes the frustration just welled up until all he could think about was that perfect, smug face. He was used to being outcast by his relatives, even if they had known him their whole lives, pretended they were friends, or that they cared, as much as Kagura wanted to pretend that there was a future for them, for him after graduation. As soon as anything real happened, his bracelet came off, or someone mentioned the cat or the cage they scattered and he was at arm’s length again.

He didn’t like to admit it but the isolation was exhausting. It was so rare that he felt a connection that was genuine.

Yuki didn’t know how Kyo integrated himself so effortlessly with his peers. They accepted him naturally, invited him to join games, outings, and conversations, and he always seemed to know just what to say. Their classmates never really seemed to know what to do with Yuki and he could never bring himself to relax around them.

And then there was Tohru, who seemed to see past all that.

Tohru was giving Kyo that concerned look again. He set down the homework he had been mostly pretending to work on.

“What’s up?” Her eyes widened, clearly she hadn’t expected him to call her out on it.

“It’s just. You look like you’re thinking about something and I was wondering if you would want to talk about it?”

Kyo still wasn’t used to having someone like Tohru around. His first instinct was to squash it down and go study somewhere else, but this is Tohru, and it wasn’t like he could talk to anyone else.

“He just has no idea, you know> He has everything I’ve wanted since I was a kid and all he can do is mope around.”

“You mean Yuki?”

“Yeah. That goddamn rat.”

Tohru paused to think on that. Kyo appreciated that about her. She didn’t say things to him just to fill the silence. Sometimes her sincerety was overwhelming but she was thoughtful when she talked to him in a way most people didn’t bother to be.

“I don’t know that that’s true.” Whatever he might have expected, it wasn’t that. Now Tohru was staring at the rat too. “I just… I think you and Yuki struggle with different things, but I think you could understand each other if you tried. I know you have issues but I bet it gets pretty lonely to not have anyone who would understand. If I hadn’t had Uo and Hana when my mom died, if I didn’t have anyone to talk to who knew her so well, I think things would have been a lot different.”

She made a good point. She echoed one of his constant frustrations, this pseudo-isolation that came before the real thing and made the build-up so much worse. Kazuma tried but as much as he did love Kyo as a son, Kazuma still harbored deeply rooted guilt over the treatment of the last cat and Kyo didn’t like trying to tread that line.

But “What the hell would that bastard know anyway.” Shit. He was just being petulant at this point. He was working on not snapping at people. Tohru shifted uncomfortably and he opened his mouth to apologize but she was watching Yuki. So she wasn’t upset at Kyo, she was being shifty about the rat.

“I don’t really know much, and I don’t think he would want me to say anything, but I think, if you waned to talk about it he would understand, and I think that you should try.”

She wasn’t just saying that. The two of them knew each other better than that by now. Her words were more determined than usual and her face had a stubborn look set into it. Kyo glanced at Yuki again. He simply didn’t have a choice. Next time, he thought. If the opportunity came up. He might consider talking to the rat. For Tohru. Even if the thought made his insides twist up in a knot.

“You know, for two people who apparently can’t stand each other, you two sure sit awful close.”

Kyo contained his sudden urge to scramble away from Yuki at Uo’s remark.

Hana watched them placidly from her spot beside Uo, picking at her lunch.

“Yes. Their waves are particularly complementary today.”

Uo was right though, Kyo was sitting close enough that he could tell that every muscle in Yuki’s body had tensed up.

“Not so different afterall huh?”

“Yes. It is interesting given the perceived animosity between the two that we so rarely see one without the other. Volatile but complementary, as though they both have pieces to a puzzle that they are desperately trying to solve on their own.”

Yuki bolted upright.

“I’m late for a student counsel meeting.”

Tohru stared up at him in confusion. Normally he would at least come up wit a better or more polite excuse, Kyo thought.

“But I thought I thought you didn’t have anything until two…” But Yuki was already gone, leaving him here to get picked apart by the vultures.

Sure enough, three questioning stares pinned him down as though for some reason he would know why the rat was so damn twitchy today. Well, he did know that Yuki had been up on the roof all night, but still. They didn’t need to know that.

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and Post-it’s - chapter 4 - (Branjie) - thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter. I hope you have as much fun reading it.

Listen… I might have gone and been doing somethin’ a Lil dumb… or maybe a lot of dumb,” Silky looked on with dread, as the younger queen was twisting her hands - seeming distressed in a way that she had only been in connection with one simple subject… or someone.

“What bitch? As long as you ain’t touching that Canadian ice Queen, you golden.” Vanjie’s steps faltered slightly as he kept on pacing, trying hard to avoid looking Silky in the eye.

“ I mean...”

LINK TO AO3

José was frantically knocking, hoping that her friend wasn’t snoozing just yet.

“Fuck, Silk! Open the motherfucking door. Code red, bitch. Co-“ he wasn’t keeping his voice down, not caring that it was after midnight and that the guest probably wouldn’t take kindly to being woken up by his foghorn voice.

The door was opened by a bleary-eyed Silky, who was rubbing her squinting eyes with her glasses in her hand.

“Why you be waking me with your screaming and knocking, bitch. You know us beauty queens be needing at least 8 hours of sleep to look as good as -“ As Silky finally put on her glasses, she noticed how bad the smaller queen looked, his body vibrating with energy and agitation.

“Fuck, Vanj. What happened?” The big queen had a suspicion, but hoped to both God and the ever-loving Jesus, that she was wrong.

“I’ve gone and been a stupid ho…” He hurriedly barged past Silky, walking into her hotel room, immediately pacing the length of the room.

“What?” Closing the door after herself, Silky tried to clear her sleep-deprived brain, so she could understand what was going on. She tried to focus on Vanjie, but he was walking back and forth quicker than a queen at a wig sale.

“Listen… I might have gone and been doing somethin’ a Lil dumb… or maybe a lot of dumb,” Silky looked on with dread, as the younger queen was twisting her hands - seeming distressed in a way that she had only been in connection with one simple subject… or someone.

“What bitch? As long as you ain’t touching that Canadian ice Queen, you golden.” Vanjie’s steps faltered slightly as he kept on pacing, trying hard to avoid looking Silky in the eye.

“ I mean...”

“Vanj, you dirty ho.” Silky sat her fine ass down on the bed, feeling tired. Not just because she had been awake for more than 20 hours, but also because she didn’t want to rehash the whole Branjie telenovela. And the way Vanjie was looking had 4 different alarms going on in her head.

“Bitch, I know.” Vanjie finally looked Silky in the eye nervously.

Silky knew what had to be done, and grabbed her phone from the bedside table.

“Fuck, I ain’t awake enough for this.” She scrolled through her contacts, searching for the number of a certain someone who would be able to set Vanjie straight.

“Nah, Silk don’t - I’ll just-“ understanding what was about to happen, Vanjie walked towards her, but Silk raised her hand in a stopping motion, effectively shutting up Vanjie - an achievement in itself.

“You sit yo stupid ass right the duck down and enjoy the ride. Imma call auntie Kiki, no matter what you be thinking, you idiot…Loooord have mercy…”

————————

Nina lightly pushed against the already slightly unlatched door, fearing what she would be met with. She had run as fast as she could down to Brooke’s hotel room after receiving a text that just said,

Please come. Need help. Room 417.

“Brock?”

“Hiiiiii Miss Nina!” Sitting on the floor with his back against the bed and a stupid smile on his face, Brock seemed deceivingly cheerful. The almost empty vodka bottle in his hand, however, told a different tale of alcohol indicated that the smile was due to alcohol and not joy.

“Please tell me that bottle wasn’t full when you began?” Nina closed the door behind herself and walked towards Brock, already dreading the night she had in front of her.

“You betcha, it was,” he was giggling, but Nina could see the dried tear stains on his cheeks as she sat down next to him.

“Give it here.” She tried to take the bottle from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. “Brock, give it. You’ve had enough. More than enough. Jesus, we have a show tomorrow!” He stubbornly kept holding on to the bottle.

“Nope. I still remember.” His voice was low, almost reverent.

“Remember what?” Nina lightly pushed against his shoulder, trying to figure out what had pushed him over the edge this time.

“His lips, his smile…. how he felt in my arms… I need to forget.” José. Why was she surprised?

“It’s been six months. Shit Brock, I think I need to call Steve if you keep this up”. Brock leaned his head against Nina’s shoulder, trying to seek comfort.

“Six months? I kissed him today?” It was mumbled against Nina’s shoulder, almost too low to be decipherable.

“I know you don’t want to but this can’t keep…. you did WHAT?!”

“Sucked his cock, too” Brock looked sheepishly up at Nina through his lashes. His drunk eyes a weird mix of mischief and hurt.

“... I’m sorry, WHAT?”

————————

“So lemme get this straight. You went down to his Lil dressing room before the show and ended up having a Lil Kai Kai and then he went icy as Chris Evans in that marvel movie and left you with yo dick hard?” A’keria was standing in front of Vanjie who was on the bed. She had a fluffy bathrobe and looked both unimpressed and tired as hell.

“Uh-huh.” Vanjie seemed to have shrunk in on himself, A’keria’s disapproval making him look like a little schoolboy who was being chewed out by his teacher.

“And then yo stupid ass decided to go back after the show, thinkin’ “imma speak with lil Miss Hytes” and then she both blew yo mind and your cock? Am I missing something here, Mary?”

“... nah, that’s all,”

Faster than Silky could react, A’keria leaned closer to Vanjie and slapped him on the back of his head.

“OW!! Bitch what the fuck?” Vanjie shrieked at A’keria, rubbing where she had hit him. Silly knew from experience that Auntie Kiki had a mean slapping hand when she disapproved of your choices, and sent a silent look of understanding to the tiny Puerto Rican in his moment of pain.

“You a damn fool. Gurl, ya’ll went and broke up. I know the boy is good in bed, but you don’t need no post-it relationship, boo.” Sighing, she sat down next to Vanjie. “You be needing a man who can hold your hand in daylight not just suck your dick in stupid ass dressing rooms after hours. You know a “you a bird and he a bird” kind of relationship?”

“A’keria… fuck, I know.”

“Then why did you go and done it? You just got over his pasty white boy ass.”

“Well…”

“Vanj. José… you guys ain’t good for each other, you know this. That’s why ya’ll decided to break up. Just get through the tour in Europe and ya’ll don’t have to see each other for a couple of months.”

“You right,” Vanjie leaned his head against A’keria’s shoulder, seeking comfort, as she draped her arm over his shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

Silky woke from her slight slumber on the bed. Seeing her two Dream Girls hugging it out, she decided to join them. As she gave them a big bear hug, she leaned close to Vanjie’s ear.

“... was it good, tho? Did your man suck it good? Did he take you to new… Hytes?”

“Shut the fuck up, Silk!” The shriek from Vanjie only barely covered the scream of pain from Silky as A’keria simply leaned over and gave her one of her patented Auntie Kiki disapproves slap, to the back of the queen’s head.

————————

“So…”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm.”

“I know.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Fully aware, Nina.”

“Brooke. We talked about this.”

“Shit, I-“ Brock ran his hand over his face. Attempting to clear his head and make himself sober up a bit, “I know, just…”

“You’ve been spiralling. This whole tortured artist who drinks and smokes to forget shit is getting real old, real quick.” Nina shook the vodka flask for emphasis.

“I am trying” Brock mumbled, knowing that Nina was right, but not wanting to admit it.

“Are you? ‘Cause to me it seems like you’re self-sabotaging. You guys broke, you were the one who ended it. It sucks, but that doesn’t mean that you have to suck him. Like, you move on.”

Nina felt like a broken record. Sure, the fact that the two idiots had somewhat made up was new, but this? Comforting Brooke over Vanjie? That had been her life ever since the reunion had happened.

“I just miss him. I see him almost everyday, and I still miss him.” His voice was small. Nina knew that this level of emotion was only reserved for drunk Brock, as he always his behind his mask of professionalism during the day.

“I know. But hon, he moved on. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re supposed to be having the time of your life, not moping over your ex. You’re our reigning queen.”

“It hurts,” Nina sighed, knowing that this could take the rest of the night. Already dreading the morning with rehearsals and meet & greet’s.

“Right, but you need to stop this,” Brock finally looked up at Nina, exasperated.

“How? We have Europe after this week”. Which was true, the three queens saying yes to dxp months ago, way before the reunion, when Branjie seemed like the best of friends.

“Okay…” Nina looked around the hotel room, searching for something that she could use. Her eyes spotted a notebook lying on the top of the side table next to the bed. She quickly got up from the floor, her knees cracking and her back aching. Reminding her that drag did not do a body good.

“Right… so here’s what you’re going to do!” Nina grabbed the notebook and threw it down to Brock, who amazingly caught it.

“You are going to write down all of these feelings. All of these memories. Just all the stuff that want to tell him. Write it down on those pages. See it as an outlet, a way for you to get it all out…”

“Right and-“

“And then you are going to cut down on those cigarettes. And Jesus, will you please slow down with the drinking. Please. If not for yourself then for me” Nina stared into Brock’s eyes, searching for some affirmation that he understood what she was saying.

“Okay,” He was nodding slowly, donning a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Promise me,” Nina wasn’t dumb, had known Brock for too long, to let him find a loophole.

“I promise.” Nina just looked at him unimpressively. “Okay. Fine. I promise you that I will cut down on the cigarettes, slow down the drinking and write in the goddamn notebook. Happy?”

“Immensely.” She could see that he wanted to ask her. But that he was too proud, so she threw him a lifeline.

“Do you need me to stay?”

“Please.” The look of sheer gratitude on Brock’s face told Nina all she needed to know, as she helped him get up from the floor, tucking his long body into bed, and cuddled into his side, hoping that her nearness would give him some sense of comfort.

These two idiots.

—————————

“What’s the Tee, Christine?” Silky looked at Vanjie with knowing eyes. A’keria had left them alone, stating that she couldn’t deal with their bullshit, warning them that they shouldn’t wake her unless Oprah showed up.

“... I just… have you looked at him lately?” Vanjie was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, looking almost lost.

“Sure. Blond wig, unclockable mug and them dance moves… he fine, he always been fine.” Something that Silky would never admit to the Canadian’s face, but he trade. That wasn’t a secret.

“No… like… you seen his face? Like them bags under his eyes the size of Michelle’s titties? How he be drinkin’ like it’s Mardi Gras up in here?” Vanjie looked at her searchingly.

“Well…”

“He ain’t right, Silk. I worry bout him.”

“Vanj. That ain’t yo job no more. Not yo monkey and defo not yo circus.” Which was true. But Silk has noticed. And she was worried too, it Vanjie didn’t need to know that.

“But what if I want it to be?”

“Then you a stupid ass bitch, who makes bad choices”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Banjie huffed, smiling sadly.

“But boo… if you went them cookies, then go get those cookies, ya know,” Silky knew that she wasn’t helping, but she couldn’t stand to see that sad face on the otherwise happy tornado of energy that was Vanessa Vanjie Mateo.

“What, but A’keria-”

“Is right. And yo is a stupid dick hungry queen who should be spending time getting pounded by some unknown twink in every new city… but if ya want that Canadian bacon? Then go get it. Munch, munch, crunch, crunch, bitch.”

Silky and Vanjie looked at each other for a beat, before they cackled louder than two seagulls who had just seen some fresh fish.

[thatonekawaiigirl13]

Who Said Death Was Easy? [Death Note] Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-one: Matsuda

Matsuda’s POV:

“I love you,” the male actor, Hideki Ryuga, professed to Misa. “So, please, don’t tell me you’re going home now. Instead, say you’ll stay by my side.”

Hideki Ryuga’s hands found their way to Misa’s shoulders. He started to lean in for the kiss when, all of the sudden, the blonde turned her head towards the camera crew, “uh, hey, Mr. Director, I can’t do this! There’s someone I love, Light Yagami! Can we maybe cut the love scenes, please?”

“Wha-? Wait a second!” the director’s eyebrows furrowed together, “where is this coming from all of the sudden?!”

“Can’t we just, like, fake kiss or something?” Misa whined.

The director threw his hands into the air, “you’re kidding! You can’t expect us to make a movie like that!”

“But, if I say no, then it’s a no. Okay?”

Matsuda closed his eyes a moment. Admittedly, he was only half listening to Misa’s antics. He was mostly focused on the fact that the Yotsuba Group’s Tokyo office was only a block or so away from where they were filming Misa’s movie. They had been filming for several days already, and all he could think about was, if only he were more brave, he could directly attempt to infiltrate the building.

All I want to do is help the investigation...

The young policeman let out a depressed sigh, thinking back to when he had attempted to lift the tension in the room during the double date.

“It’s nothing. Matuda’s being stupid again.”

“That’s his speciality.”

He hung his head, I want to help the investigation, but so far, I haven’t been able to do very much…

No, Touta Matsuda! You can’t think like that! And today’s Friday!

He thought back to the chief’s words, “...I noticed that all the deaths that are beneficial to Yotsuba appear to be concentrated around the weekend...they all seem to take place between Friday night and Saturday afternoon.”

The chief said he didn’t want to be dead weight...well, like the chief, I also don’t want to be dead weight, either! No, I can’t be dead weight! I want Ryuzaki and the others to see how beneficial to this case I can be! I don’t want to just do coffee runs and file papers for them. Matsuda took another sip of his coffee, Light and Keiko are both younger than me, but yet they’ve been able to contribute so much more to the case than me. They’re younger and a lot more talented than I am...no! Again, you can’t think like that! It’s time to stop moping around, Touta Matsuda! If you want to show your skills, you can’t do that sitting down. It’s time to take matters into your own hands!

Matsuda jumped from his spot on the park bench. He dumped his empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, then took off in a sprint towards the Yotsuba building.

You can do this, Touta Matsuda! You can prove your worth!

/meanwhile/

Light’s POV:

Would I really punish evil-doers if I could kill just by seeing a person’s face and name? Is that what I would do if I had that sort of power? I admit, there are a lot of people that the world could frankly do without, but...I don’t think I’d become a murderer just to change the world...surely, I wouldn’t do that, right? No! Light, you’re thinking too hard about this. There’s no way one could murder so many people and not have any memory of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Keiko running a hand through her hair. He looked over at her, watching as she read over the paper in front of her, and attempted to ignore the pang in his heart. There was no denying that he missed her.

But...because of Misa, my relationship with her was ruined...she caused a misunderstanding and messed things up between us. Keiko breaking with me might have hurt, but the fact that she no longer trusts me, thanks to Misa and this whole ongoing investigation, hurts me the most...and L.

Light looked over at the raven haired detective, L was dangling her right in front of me during that stupid date I was forced to go on. Knowing L, he’s can’t be romantically interested in her...so what was his motive? Was it all just a test? Well, that wouldn’t be too surprising, but if it was a test, it was a rather cruel one. Though, I suppose if his goal was to find out how I truly feel about Keiko, he surely accomplished that. well….I suppose it makes sense he’d want to test me on that. He wants to know if I truly loved her or if I was merely using her. I can understand that. But even so, Light thought back to the way L had intimately placed his hand on Keiko’s chin and let out a sigh.

Why would he touch her like that?! Logically, I know there’s no way that L would ever gain feelings for anyone, and I know that Keiko would never fall for someone as weird as him, but still, thinking about the two of them together upsets me. I don’t even want to think about that, not even hypothetically, it’s crazy and-

“What’s wrong, Light-kun?” L questioned, breaking through Light’s thoughts.

“H-huh?”

“You were staring at me,” L replied matter-of-factly. He was nonchalant, holding a plate of strawberry cake out in front of him. “Wait a moment, you’re annoyed because I’m the only one eating cake at the moment, aren’t you?”

“What?” Light was aghast. “No, that’s not it.”

What the-? Where’s this coming from? He had to know that I was thinking about him. Surely he’s just trying to annoy me on purpose right now.

“Here,” the detective held his plate out in front of Light. “I didn’t touch it yet. You can have it, if you’d like.”

Light shook his head, holding his hand out in front of him, “no thanks. That’s really not it, Ryuzaki-san.”

L sighed, “fine. It’s your loss, really.”

He was about to take a bite when his computer screen lit up with the letter ‘W’.

“Ryuzaki-san,” Watari called out.

Keiko’s POV:

Keiko, who had been trying to tune out L’s latest antics, gave up once she heard Watari’s voice projecting into the room.

“Yes?” L answered, “what is it, Watari-san?”

“Detective Eraldo Coil has just received a private request to investigate and reveal the identity of L.”

Eraldo...Coil? I remember hearing that name before...wait a moment…

“Wait a moment, isn’t Eraldo Coil the man who’s supposed to be the next greatest detective after L?” Keiko wondered out loud as she stood up from her chair. She walked over to where the monitors were sitting, taking a spot near L.

I’m still a bit upset with him...but I want to know what’s going on...once again, there goes my pride…

Light’s father crossed his arms, “who on earth would send such a request?”

“The man who sought out Coil’s services was identified as Masahiko Kida. Kida is the vice president of the rights and planning department of the Yotsuba Group,” Watari announced.

“So it is Yotsuba…” the chief muttered.

“If they want to know L’s identity then…” Keiko started, then she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Light, however, finished the sentence for her, “if they want to know L’s identity then they probably want to kill him...they just need the name and face to do it.”

I couldn’t imagine a world without L, Keiko looked over at the raven haired detective. She bit her lip, deep in thought, despite how much he teases and frustrates me, I can’t deny that I have feelings for him. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without him around...personal feelings aside, he makes things more interesting. And, through working with him, I’ve managed to improve on my own investigative skills. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s taught me quite a bit.

“This isn’t good,” the chief let out a sigh, “we’re already shorthanded...and now we have to worry about Coil, too?”

L swiveled his chair around to face the rest of the Task Force. He glanced at everyone in the room, his gaze lingering a little while longer on Keiko as he said, “it’s alright...you don’t have to worry about that.”

Don’t worry?! How in the world can he say something like that? Kira’s going to great lengths to try and kill him! I might ‘hate’ him, but I certainly don’t want to lose him!

“The detective known as Eraldo Coil...is me.”

Keiko’s eyes widened at his sudden confession, what?!

“It’s quite simple, really,” L started, through bites of his cake. “Three of the world’s greatest detectives, L, Coil, and Deneuve….they’re all actually me. It’s been in my experience that people who try to find me usually fall for this.”

They’re all him? That’s impressive, you never cease to amaze me. Keiko almost smiled, then remembered she was supposed to be mad at the detective. Dammit! This is exactly it! He frustrates me, then makes it impossible for me to stay mad at him for very long...but that being said, I suppose it won���t be too long before he annoys me yet again...

“As expected, you’re always a few steps ahead of everyone else,” Light commented.

L picked the strawberry off his cake, “I’ll give you this strawberry if you keep this a secret.”

When no one took the strawberry from him, the detective turned towards Keiko, extending the strawberry towards her.

“For you,” he said simply.

Why’d he decide on me? Keiko wondered, a blush filling her cheeks, but she took the strawberry from him anyway. I almost doubt it, but...if this is some form of a late apology from him about the double date fiasco, I’ll take it. Though, he still has a long way to go to fully apologize.

/short timekskip/

“...and that’s what I was thinking as far as a game plan,” the detective announced.

“Alright,” the conman, Aiber, said after a moment. “So you just want me to get close to him? Well, leave that to me.”

The woman, Wedy, took a drag of her cigarette, “and you wanted me to breach the security systems and override the surveillance for Yotsuba’s Tokyo branch?”

L nodded, “yes. At this point, it’s safe to assume that Kira and Yotsuba are connected in some way. We are going to investigate Yotsuba to determine who currently holds Kira’s power, and if there’s more than one person who possesses this ability...the most important thing is that we cannot let anyone from Yotsuba figure out that they are being investigated. That being said, it would be wise not to act impulsively out of panic or haste. And definitely don’t take matters into your own hands.”

“Ryuzaki-san,” Watari’s voice cut through the room for the second time that day, “I have just received an emergency signal from Matsuda’s belt.”

L closed his eyes a moment. “Where is he?”

“It appears that the signal is coming from within the head office of the Yotsuba Group.”

“Well, I’m disappointed, but not surprised…Matsuda-san, you idiot,” Keiko heard the detective mutter. He turned around to face the rest of the Task Force, “alright...well...looks like I need to rethink our strategy so please, disregard everything I just said.”

“Mogi-san,” the detective looked over at the policeman, “may I borrow your cell phone, please? Yes...thank you very much.”

Keiko watched as L dialed Matsuda’s phone number then placed the cell phone on speakerphone.

“H-hello?” Matsuda tentatively responded.

“Yo! Matsui! It’s me, Asahi! It’s been a while, buddy!”

Uh. What? Am I hearing correctly? Did...did...the detective...just say yo? And...buddy?

“Oh, yeah. Uh, it sure has, Asahi!”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re out right now. Come on, it’s Friday night! Are you really home already?”

“Yeah, I’m home already…”

“So, you by yourself, then?”

“Yeah, I’m by myself...what’s up?”

The detective held the phone by his chest for a moment whispering, “it sounds as though Matsuda was acting alone...Misa Amane must not be with him.”

“Sooo,” the detective started, talking to Matsuda once more, “dooo you wanna, like, go out drinking tonight?”

Keiko had reached her limit. Despite the situation, the girl had to stifle a giggle at the ridiculous way that the detective was talking.

I know this isn’t the time or the place...but...he’s always so serious all the time...and to hear him talk like that...it’s hilarious. I doubt I’ll ever hear him speak those words again.

“Huh, right now? Oh, sorry. I’ll have to pass on that for tonight.”

“What? What’s the matter? Don’t tell me your wallet’s in trouble again.”

“Yeah, that’s right, haha. I’m in big trouble with money, you know me way too well, Asahi. I’m totally broke right now.”

Upon hearing that Matsuda was in trouble, Keiko sobered up, Matusda...what’re you doing right now?! We leave you alone with Misa Amane to shoot a movie for only a couple days...and you get yourself in trouble...

“That’s too bad. Guess I’ll just have to drag you out some other time, then. See ya, buddy. Speak soon.”

With that, L hung up. He turned towards Light, “could you please call Amane-san?”

“What are you planning on doing, Ryuzaki-san?” the chief questioned.

“Well…worst case scenario, if Masuda-san dies, our suspicions against Yotsuba Group would be confirmed...however, I don’t think they’ll kill him right away. That being said, let’s just watch the situation for a while.”

/slight timeskip/

The ringing of Light’s cell phone broke through the silence. Light fished the phone out of his pocket, “it’s Misa…hello, Misa-chan...wait...listen to me. You’re not with Matsuda-san at the moment, are you?...I figured as much…h-huh?”

Light removed the phone from his ear a moment, “she said she's getting a call on her work phone from Matsuda-san!”

The detective glanced over at Keiko’s ex-boyfriend, “please, tell her to place the phone so that we can listen in as well.”

Light nodded, instructing Misa to do as L said.

“Misa Misa!” Matsuda’s voice filled the room, “when you’ve finished filming, please come over to Yotsuba Group’s main Tokyo office! It’s still tentative, but there’s a chance you may be able to appear in their commercials!”

“What?” was Misa’s rather shrill reply, “are you for real?! That’s amazing, Matsui-san! So that’s what you’ve been up to. Don’t worry, we’re wrapping up filming soon…”

“Great!” Matsuda replied, “it’s just a short trip by taxi.”

With that, Misa’s phone call with Matsuda was finished, and Light hung up the phone with Misa as well. The Task Force, Keiko included, looked over at L, who was deep in thought.

“We may be able to save Matsuda-san,” the detective announced after a moment, “however, we won’t be able to do it unless we have Misa Amane’s help...Light-kun, I’m sure she’ll listen to you, right? She did say she was willing to do anything for you. And…” L’s dark eyes met Keiko’s, “Kagami-san, we’ll need your skills as well.”

M-me?! Keiko’s heart pounded in her chest.

“I know you’re probably still upset with me, Kagami-san...and I’m truly sorry for upsetting you...but we really need your help...I really need your help. You’re the best person to oversee the task I have in mind. I need your skills...perhaps….can I count on you?”

He’s….sorry? He...needs my help? The world’s greatest detective is counting on me? And he apologized? She carefully inspected him, he’s serious...I haven’t seen L looking this serious in a while...

Keiko nodded, looking into the detective’s eyes once more, “yes. You can count on me, Ryuzaki-san.”

/timeskip/

Keiko tugged down on her mini skirt for what she felt like was the hundredth time that night. Unfortunately for her, the reception party had yet to even start. To make matters worse, the crop top she was wearing was showed far too much cleavage for her taste. With her midriff and long legs exposed, the girl felt like she was almost naked.

This is probably the most scandalous outfit I’ve ever worn in my life! And to think, it’s for something like this...

Upon hearing the door starting to open, Keiko got in position with the other girls from Misa’s agency.

Looks like it’s go time! She plastered a smile on her face, Keiko Kagami, you can do this! L’s counting on you to make sure everything tonight runs smoothly...

“Good evening!” The girls from Misa’s agency, and Keiko, chimed once the men from Yotsuba had entered the room. Keiko noted that there were eight of them in total, all dressed to the nines in black business suits.

Eight executive members...if Kira is truly someone from Yotsuba Group, then it’s highly likely that it’s one of them...

“We’re all very pleased to meet you all,” Misa walked over to the group of men, a wide grin on her face, “tonight we’ll all be entertaining you. There’s food and alcohol served on the living room table. I hope you guys will let loose and enjoy yourselves.”

Matsuda gave an awkward laugh, running a hand through his dark hair, “y-yes. Please have fun everyone!”

L’s POV:

L surveyed the scene through the hidden cameras, all according to the plan so far…just a little while longer, and it should be time for Matsuda to be getting a hold of me...

He watched as Misa leaned over, whispering something to the man sitting beside her. The detective identified him as Reiji Namikawa. On the other side of Misa sat Suguru Shimura, who took another swig of alcohol.

“Man, Suguru started, leaning in towards the blonde, “you girls really know how to throw a party, this is heaven.”

“Hmm,” L muttered to himself  as Misa gave Suguru a flirty grin, “she appears to be pretty good at this out of thing.”

However, how’s Keiko holding up?

The detective scanned the room for the girl, who was sandwiched between a pensive-looking Shingo Mido and Kyosuke Higuchi, who had been raving on about their company’s previous successes.

“Oh, wait,” Keiko started, taking an empty cup out of Higuchi’s hands, “before you go on, this is a celebration, you should have more to drink.”

“Thank you,” Higuchi winked at the girl, his hand finding its way to her inner thigh. He rested it there while she refilled his drink. “If a pretty lady tells me I should drink some more, I’ll certainly do it.”

Upon seeing this, L’s eyes narrowed at the man, anger burning through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Light stiffening up as well.

I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Kyosuke Higuchi...you’d better watch yourself. If you attempt to go any farther, I’ll somehow make you pay for it later on.

Although it was only for a brief second, the detective had noticed how Keiko froze up at Higuchi’s touch. However, she had quickly regained her smile, pretending that all was well.

Despite the front you’ve put up, I can tell you’re more than uncomfortable with the situation...I’m so sorry to be putting you through this, Keiko Kagami, but you’re the only one available with my trust that fits the role and can make sure that the plan runs smoothly. Please be patient, it’ll only be a little while longer.

As if on cue, Matsuda slipped up from his spot on the couch. He slid with drunken steps towards the door, slipping Misa’s cell phone off of the table and into his pocket, “‘s’cuse m-me, I need to go to the restroom.”

Despite his sudden announcement, the room continued on with mindless chatter. No one was paying any attention to Matsuda. The detective watched as Matsuda took his chance to leave the room. He ran down the hallway into the bathroom, locked himself inside a stall, and then punched in the number for the Task Force.

“Ryuzaki-san,” Matsuda said through the phone, are you watching?”

“Yes.”

The detective watched as the young policeman breathed a deep sigh of relief, “look I’m so sorr-”

“That’s not important right now, Matsuda-san.”

“You’re right...listen to me, the eight men who came here had a meeting to determine who they would get Kira to kill for them.”

At this, L heard a gasp from Light’s father. Both the detective and Light, however, remained expressionless.

“I heard them say it clearly,” Matsuda went on, “there’s no doubt in my mind, they’ve gotta be behind this. One of them is more than most likely Kira.”

“Yes, you’re probably right...but, if you overheard them, then they should be trying to kill you.”

“I-is there anything I can do?” Matsuda stuttered out.

“Luckily for us, you’re still alive. I believe that there is a way to save you...but listen to me very closely, you must die before they kill you,” the detective announced.

“What?! R-Ryuzaki-san-!”

“As I said,” L interrupted, “listen to me very carefully…here’s what you’ll have to do…”

Keiko’s POV:

“...and that’s how our company is still expanding, even today.”

Keiko internally gagged, how much longer is he going to talk about himself and the company? How big is his ego?

Luckily for Keiko, Higuchi had removed his hand from her thigh as soon as she handed him back his cup. However, he still made it a point to unnecessarily brush up against her while going on and on about Yotsuba.

He’s absolutely disgusting and full of himself, but I can’t break character despite how uncomfortable I am...L and the others are watching from afar. I can’t let them down, she looked over at Misa, who appeared to be having fun herself, how does she do it? I have to admit, Misa’s a natural at this...I’ve been having to follow her lead this whole time.

The sound of someone slamming the door open interrupted her thoughts. Keiko looked over towards the source of the sound.

It’s Matsuda! He’s back! Thank goodness! That must mean that it’s time to put the plan into action!

Keiko watched as the young policeman stumbled back into the room, his face flushed and his speech slurred, “heyeveryone. Maaaaan, I’m sodrunk.”

He commanded the attention of everyone in the room, waving his hands around as he walked towards the balcony, “is everyone havin’ fuuun? ...thass great, I’mso glad.”

“What’s he doing?” someone called out as Matsuda slid the sliding door, stepping out into the cool night.

“I have it! The thing you’veall been waiting for! It’s the Taro Matsui show!”

With that, Matsuda started to position himself on the ledge of the balcony.

“What’re you doing?! Suguru called out, jumping off from his spot on the couch in concern,“get offa there!”

“He’s insane!” another Yotsuba executive chimed in as Matsuda fully stepped up on the ledge.

“Yaaay!” Misa’s shrill voice rang out against the crowd forming by the balcony, “you can do it! Go Matsu!”

“Yeah, go Matsu!” Keiko cried out as well, though her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest.

I know I have to trust L but...what if something goes wrong? No, no, you can’t think like that. Everything will be okay.

“But he’s drunk!” Reiji motioned towards where Matsuda was currently balancing, “and that’s dangerous!”

“Iss alright,” Matsuda shot everyone a grin, “Ialwaysdothis.”

That being said, the young policeman took a couple drunken steps forwards, arms balancing him out at his sides. Once that was done, he attempted to balance himself, hands first, on the ledge. He was only successful for a couple of seconds before plunging down into the dark of the night, letting out a scream as he did so.

As soon as Keiko heard the thud on the ground, she scrambled towards the window, double checking to make sure everything went according to plan. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she noticed that the body laying on the ground didn’t quite fit Matsuda’s body type.

Thank goodness. It isn’t him...which means everything went according to plan...now it’s time for phase two.

Everyone around her was in a frenzy, but Keiko and Misa headed towards the middle of the room, ready to command their attention.

Misa cupped her hands around her mouth. “It’ll be okay!” she announced, “the agency will take care of this.”

“What? But-” Reiji started.

“Just leave this for us to take care of,” Keiko interrupted, “as Misa-chan said, the agency will take care of this. You should go, everyone.”

“It’ll be okay,” Misa repeated, “we’ll handle this. But, please, still be sure to consider me for the commercial!”

“You don’t need to tell me again,” Mido said, walking over towards the door, “if they say they’ll handle it then we shouldn’t worry. Anyway, we really should get going. Just think, if the press sees this, they’ll have a field day. It’ll be bad news for the company’s stocks.”

With that, the executives of Yotsuba took their leave and Matsuda’s life had been saved.

[the-sonic-cafe]

Hot Chocolate- Fan Fiction

Here’s a Sonic fic I wrote a few weeks back for the winter prompt of hot chocolate. I am hoping to do more Christmas prompt Sonic stories and have them all somewhat connected, but we will see.  Without further ado, the story:

“Mama, look, you can’t even see the front garden bed!” Cream gasped, her hands planted against the window pane as she stared wide eyed at the raging blizzard outside.

Vanilla smiled and stoked the fire. It certainly was a spell of bad weather they were having. Putting the poker back on its hook, she crossed the earth colored carpet until she was standing next to her daughter, “You’re certainly right.”

Cream withdrew her gaze from outside and looked up at Vanilla, “When will it stop snowing so we can play outside?”

“Probably not until tomorrow, baby. Remember what the weatherman said?”

“Oh, yeah…” she said, deflated.

Vanilla placed a hand on Cream’s shoulder, “Don’t look so down, sweetie. There are still plenty of fun things for us to do inside.”

“Like what?” she asked, tugging at a loose thread on her sweater.

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could make some hot chocolate?”

The six-year-old perked up immediately at that and clasped her hands together, “Can we?” At her mother’s nod, Cream whipped her head over to Cheese who was currently wrapped in a wool blanket on the couch, “Cheese, did you hear that? We’re going to make some hot chocolate! Do you want some?”

“Chao, chao!” he replied enthusiastically and untangled himself from the blanket.

“Alright, let’s go make some,” Vanilla said gesturing to the kitchen.

Cream sped on ahead with Cheese right behind her and immediately went to work dragging the stool she used to help her mom cook over to the counter. Vanilla followed in after her, glad her baby was content being indoors at the moment. Unfortunately, making hot chocolate wouldn’t take up the whole day. She was unsure what they would do after, but she’d have to think of something lest she deal with Cream moping around in boredom until tomorrow.

The mother and daughter duo set to work heating a pot of milk and preparing the cocoa powder all while singing Christmas carols in matching aprons. Cheese seemed content flying about the kitchen waiting with great anticipation for the warm beverage.

Vanilla was stirring the contents in the pot together when a knocking sound echoed into the kitchen. She shared a look with Cream, wondering if that could have possibly been the wind or branches hitting the roof. The sound emitted a second time. It was coming from the front door!

“You keep stirring, Cream,” she said, passing the wooden spoon, “I’ll go check the door.”

She quickly walked to the front entrance. If anyone had fought the storm to get to her house, it must be an emergency. Why didn’t they just call? Were the phone lines down? All these thoughts vanished from her head the moment she opened the door and saw Sonic the Hedgehog shivering on her doorstep.

“Sonic!” she gasped, voice barely carrying over the howling wind as the cold bit at her face, “What on earth are you doing out in this weather?”

“F-freezing, actually,” he replied. She could tell he meant it as a joke, but his chattering teeth ruined the effect.

“Come inside this instant!” she fretted, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him through the door. Quickly, she closed it, efficiently stopping the snow flurries from filling the entrance hall. Turning back around she gave Sonic a one over. His arms were tightly wrapped around his chest and his quills were covered with snow. “Why aren’t you wearing a coat? Or a scarf at least?” Sonic opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off, “Oh never mind that right now, come this way. You need to warm up. I’ve got a fire going in the living room and you’re going to sit right in front of it!”

“Mr. Sonic?”

Vanilla looked behind her to see Cream peaking around the corner with excited eyes. Her daughter adored Sonic. Anytime the young hero was in town, Cream would insistently ask when he’d be stopping by to see her. Vanilla would usually remark that Sonic was very busy and might not have time to visit, but he almost always made time, even if it was just for an hour.

“Cream, aren’t you supposed to be watching the hot chocolate?”

“It’s done, Mama. I turned off the stove,” she said absentmindedly, eyes not leaving Sonic.

“H-hey, Cream,” he greeted with a stutter.

“Sonic has been out in this horrible weather, dear,” she said, lightly encouraging Sonic to continue moving forward by placing a hand on his back, “I need you to come help me.”

“What can I do?” she asked with a look of determination.

“Go get a towel from the bathroom.”

Cream disappeared down the hall while Vanilla guided Sonic to stand next to the fire.

“You stay right there,” she said sternly, before moving over to the plush chair that sat in the corner of the room. Grabbing it by the armrest, she tugged it across the floor.

“Th-thanks, Miss Van-nilla. S-sorry ‘bout the carpet,” he said, shoes shifting on the now dampened floor.

Vanilla shook her head, “No trouble at all, sweetie, and that’s nothing to worry about. It will dry.”

“Chao!” Cheese flew around Sonic’s head twice before stopping inches away from his face, “Chao chao chao!”

Sonic chuckled, “I’m fine, Cheese. J-just a little cold s’all.”

Cream reappeared from the hall, “I got a towel!”

“Thank you,” Vanilla grabbed the cloth from her and gave it to Sonic, “Wipe that melting snow off before you catch your death of cold.”

As Sonic started wiping at his quills, Cream came and stood by his side, “What were you doing outside in the snowstorm, Mr. Sonic?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Vanilla said, giving him a reprimanding look.

“I was comin’ back f-from visiting a friend in Shamar. I didn’t kn-know the weather over here was so b-bad ‘til I was running in it.”

Vanilla retook the now damp towel from Sonic’s hands, “That’s why it’s important to pay attention to things like weather!” Sonic winced as her maternal side took over. Cream just gave him sympathetic look, “You keep not thinking before you act and you’re going to end up hurt! You could have frozen to death out there! And you’ll be lucky if you don’t get sick, young man!”

Sighing, she allowed her tense form to relax. Worry sometimes caused her temper to flare a bit, but it was just because she cared. Besides, if she didn’t scold the world-renowned hero every once in a while, who would?

“But I suppose all turned out well. I am glad you managed to find the house,” Vanilla said, grabbing the blanket Cheese had been using earlier off the couch, “Now, sit down. We’ve got to warm you back up.”

Sonic complied and stiffly sat down in the chair. Carefully, Vanilla placed the blanket over him, “Now, how about some hot chocolate? I believe it will do you good and help stop the shivers.”

“Hot chocolate s-sounds great,” he said, grinning.

Patting his shoulder twice, she moved back into the kitchen. She grabbed three Christmas-themed mugs from the top cabinet and the pot off the stove. As she poured the drinks, she could hear Cream laughing at something Sonic had said. She chuckled.

Sonic was a good kid, but sometimes he got so caught up in helping others that he’d forget to take care of himself. Vanilla shook her head. Even though she was a mother of one, she sometimes felt like a mother of twenty.

Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a can of whipped cream and squirted a dollop into each cup. Perfect!

Taking hold of the steaming mugs, she made her way back to the living room. Cream had her hands resting on the armchair clearly hanging onto every word Sonic was saying, “—fessor Pickle said he was going home to Spongonia to spend the holidays with his daughter.”

“Here you are, you two,” Vanilla smiled, passing both Cream and Sonic a mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Thanks, Mama!”

“Thanks, Miss V!”

“So, what are two talking about?” she asked, taking note that Sonic’s teeth were no longer chattering.

“Sonic’s visit with Professor Pickle!” Cream answered before blowing on her hot chocolate.

“Ah!” Vanilla said, taking a seat on the couch, “I am surprised Tails didn’t go with you. Isn’t he close with the professor?”

“Oh yeah! Those two love to talk ancient stuff.” Sonic said adjusting the blanket, “But it was actually an unexpected drop-in. I was just in the area and decided to check in on him. You know, make sure he’s not dealing with any maniacal mad doctors or robots.”

Vanilla hummed in response, cautiously sipping at the drink. It turned out really good, she had to admit. Chocolatey and smooth.

Seeing her take a drink must have prompted Sonic, for he immediately brought the cup to his lips. He made a loud slurping sound which caused Cream giggle. Vanilla simply shook her head good-naturedly, choosing to ignore the lack of manners.

“Mm-mm! That’s good!” Sonic said.

Cream’s giggles turned into a high-pitched laugh, “Mr. Sonic! You have a whip cream mustache!”

“Huh, I do?” he questioned, eyes going crossed in an attempt to catch a peek, “Well what-do-ya know? Do I look more sophisticated?”

Cream nodded, her eyes twinkling in delight.

Putting on an accent, he grabbed Cream’s hand in one of his, “Excuse me, Miss, but did you help make this exquisite hot chocolate?”

“I did with my Mama, Mr. King Sonic,” she said playing along.

“I dare say it is the best hot chocolate I have ever tasted! I hereby declare you and Miss V to be the royal hot chocolate makers!” then he bent his head down and kissed Cream’s gloved hand, succeeding a wiping a little of the whipped cream off.

“You got some on me!” she gasped.

“A thousand pardons,” he winked.

The two broke out laughing and Vanilla couldn’t help but join in.

They continued to talk about Sonic’s visit to Shamar, Cream’s Christmas list to Santa, and the Amy’s upcoming Christmas party until all their cups were empty.

“I suppose I’ll have to start cooking lunch in a little bit.” Vanilla said standing back up and grabbing everyone’s glasses, “Do you eat creamy broccoli soup, Sonic?”

“Yeah, actually, but I’m staying for lunch?” he questioned.

“I assumed you’d be staying the rest of the day, unless you want to go back out in that storm again,” she said, giving him a playful smile.

“Nah, I’d rather stay the rest of the day.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Cream said bouncing up and down, “We can play all kinds of games together! Do you wanna play Candy Land?”

“Sure! How about you, Miss Vanilla? You in?”

She nodded, “Sounds like fun. I’ll go put these in the sink and you two go and get the game.”

“Come on, Mr. Sonic! The game’s in my room!” Cream said, grabbing him by the hand and pulling.

Sonic chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled up off the chair. The two vanished down the hall, leaving Vanilla in the living room. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have to worry about Cream being bored for the rest of the day.

[jilliancares]

All is Fair: Chapter 9

Word count: 3.6k

TW: uuuhh giant cliffhanger that SEEMS like the worst thing ever but just take it in stride my dudes if there were any major tws i would’ve listed them at the beginning SO

ao3 ; wattpad

masterlist ; next chapter

CHAPTER NINE:

Never before had Phil felt quite like he was going to be eaten alive by guilt alone. He was sure Emma was feeling something along the same lines, as her eyes seemed to be filled with the same amount of anguish Phil was harboring. They’d never expected for a plan they’d considered so ingenious to backfire so completely, leaving Dan in an almost shell-like state. Phil was afraid if he so much as touched him, he’d break.

He and Emma were currently busy packing up the camp. Since they’d been forced to leave all their supplies behind, this meant stomping out the little fire they’d been able to make and half-heartedly covering the tracks they’d made in the ground with leaves. Dan was sitting against a tree, looking deep into the forest, appearing as if he hadn’t moved all night.

Emma murmured something about trying to find some forest berries for breakfast and Phil nodded idly. He had some golden drachmas in his pocket, along with a wad of cash he’d thought to move from his backpack before they’d entered that warehouse. It had turned out to be smart thinking, after all, seeing as none of them had their backpacks any longer.

Slowly, Phil approached Dan, afraid he’d surprise him and Dan would go sprinting off like a startled rabbit.

“Dan,” Phil said. Instead of jerking towards Phil and blinking rapidly, as if not even knowing he was there, Dan just slowly turned his head, accompanied by one long, slow blink. And then he raised his eyebrows.

Phil shrunk to the ground beside him, fiddling with the hem of his shirt for a moment before he found it in himself to speak up. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dan said easily. If he hadn’t been able to see Dan, if he were perhaps just talking to him over the phone, he might’ve believed it. But he could see the shadows under Dan’s eyes, could see his faraway look and the whites of his knuckles on his knees. Phil knew he wasn’t okay.

“Did he… Did… Jeremy… touch you?” He knew Jeremy had touched Dan, but again, touch wasn’t really what he was asking about. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking back to how Jeremy had touched Dan in that warehouse.

When Dan had first walked into the room, he’d thought he was just acting. He’d been clinging to Jeremy’s arm all love-struck-like, looking at him adoringly and playing the part completely convincingly. But then he hadn’t stopped playing the part.

Something thick and hard to swallow past rose up in Phil’s throat when he remembered Jeremy pulling Dan back against his chest, remembered him touching him all over his torso, seeing that hand dip further and further down, violating Dan all the while. Some sort of primal rage had taken over him, and before he’d known it he’d procured his sword and was charging towards the bastard with murderous intent. He’d wanted to slice his head clean off and stab his carcass over and over until he was completely unrecognizable. Instead, he’d had to just take Dan and run, leaving the monster in a state that allowed for too much breathing, in Phil’s opinion.

So yes, Phil knew Jeremy had touched Dan. But he didn’t know if he’d touched Dan more, if he’d done even worse things to him before they’d entered that room together. Gods, just thinking about it now had Phil rearing up to go. He might have to track all the way back to that warehouse to tear that fucker apart.

“No,” Dan said simply, in answer to Phil’s question.

Phil reached forward and grabbed Dan’s hand. He was almost surprised when Dan let it happen, but he accepted it gratefully, twining his fingers with Dan’s and pulling their linked hands closer towards him. “I’m sorry for letting that happen to you,” Phil said sincerely. “If you want, we can turn back and torture him until he forgets his own name.” This, somehow, cracked a smile out of Dan, who squeezed Phil’s hand momentarily.

“I’m good,” Dan said, with a little shake of his head. “We should continue on, anyway. Know where Hephaestus lives?”

Phil didn’t, in fact, know where Hephaestus lived, but he couldn’t deny that their chances were looking better now than ever. All they really needed was a good brainstorming session, probably, although they’d have to wait for Emma to return for that to happen. And so, while they waited, they talked. They shared quiet, simple words, their hands linked together the entire time. At some point, Phil had started rubbing over the back of Dan’s hand with his thumb.

During a lull in the conversation, a moment of quiet, Dan cleared his throat softly. “You know,” he said. “That was my first kiss. My one with Jeremy.”

Phil felt the breath fall out of his mouth as if a bowling ball had been swung into his stomach. Of fucking course that had to happen to Dan—how… how unfair was that!? Dan, while appearing kind of moody and closed off at first, was in reality so sweet and kind underneath. He was strong, and brave, and a bit stupid for not accepting himself completely, but he was still entirely wonderful. Dan didn’t deserve to have his first kiss stolen like that, didn’t deserve to have something that was supposed to be exciting and fun and maybe magical stolen by a monster.

“It doesn’t count,” Phil claimed, squeezing Dan’s hand tighter as he said so. “You were cursed—it doesn’t count.”

“It does,” Dan said simply. “I can… I can remember it all, so…”

“Nope,” Phil insisted, shaking his head perhaps a bit childishly. “Doesn’t count!” he sung. This cracked a smile out of Dan, along with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“If that wasn’t my first kiss—”

“It wasn’t,” Phil interrupted firmly. “First kisses are supposed to be good. Maybe a bit clumsy, maybe shy and timid, but still good.”

“You’re a real romantic, huh?” Dan laughed. Phil shrugged.

“You could say so.”

“Maybe you should’ve been the son of Aphrodite,” Dan said, rolling his eyes as he did.

“Nah. I never could’ve been as pretty as you.” And then, when Dan looked up at him, his eyes wide with surprise and his cheeks tinted pink, Phil leaned in and kissed him. Dan inhaled sharply against him, shocked, but he fell right into the kiss, his lips moving eagerly against Phil’s and a shaking hand coming up to tentatively touch his jaw.

When Phil pulled away, Dan’s face was full-blown red and his lips were pink and shining. He couldn’t seem to stop blinking.

“Remember that as your first kiss instead,” Phil said simply. At the word ‘kiss’, Dan’s eyes fluttered down, his hand slipping out of Phil’s.

“Um…” he cleared his throat, his hand coming up to tug impatiently at one of his curls. “You… You probably shouldn’t have kissed me,” he said quietly.

“Why.” Phil said it flatly—it was hardly a question.

Dan shrugged.

“Because you think it’s wrong?” Phil concluded. “Because you don’t want to be gay?”

Dan’s head shot up, his eyes so wide and full of panic that one might think Dan was facing a monster instead of his sexuality. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Dan.”

“I never said—”

“There’s nothing wrong with you being gay.”

Dan worried his lip, looking like he didn’t believe a word Phil was saying.

“Dude, your mom’s the goddess of love. It’s probably her fault you like guys anyway.”

“You think?” Dan said disbelievingly.

“I know that she absolutely doesn’t care about whatever your sexuality is,” Phil said certainly. “She just wants you to find love.” And with that, he grabbed Dan’s chin and kissed him once more—just a peck—before standing up. “Now stop moping around. We have to go find Hephaestus.”

—

After a quick call to Camp Half-Blood to speak to Chiron (they’d had to find a stream and figure out how to create a rainbow in it to connect them through long-distance-rainbow-calling), they were fresh on their way, headed towards the closest of the seven entrances into Hephaestus’ forges. Chiron figured that Hephaestus would probably be deep in his forge working on unknown creations right about now, seeing as no important dates were coming up to force the gods to get together on Mount Olympus.

Hephaestus had different entrances to his forges that mortals could enter through. They were lucky enough to be not so far from one now, and so, after a bit of a walk and almost two hours of waiting at what appeared to be an abandoned bus stop, they caught their ride. The run-down bus stop came with an equally run-down bus, the driver of said bus matching the set as well. He grunted when they climbed aboard, raising an eyebrow when Phil plopped the wad of paper bills into his hand.

“This money won’t do.”

“What?” Phil muttered, but Emma was squinting at the man, scrutinizing him.

“You want these?” she guessed, holding a pair of golden drachmas between her fingers. The man nodded and held out a hand, curling his fingers around the gold after Emma dropped it into his palm.

“Where to?”

“Hephaestus’s forge?” Phil tried, and the man’s lip curled into a smirk, perhaps a bit higher than it should’ve gone.

“Climb aboard.”

Sometimes, being a demigod meant ignoring the fact that someone was creepy and also probably a monster in order to get to where you needed to go. And so they did, in fact, climb aboard, edging past the driver and down the rows of the strangely empty bus. Towards the back sat a man with a bowler hat pulled low over his eyes, and towards the front was a little girl all by herself, sitting cross legged and humming under her breath. Deciding to avoid both of these two (possible) evils, they settled somewhere in between the other passengers, Dan squashed in with Phil on one seat and Emma on the one beside them.

Immediately, Emma curled up sideways on her seat and went to sleep, head pressed against the window. Phil didn’t blame her. He still felt tired even despite Dan having taken all three shifts the past night. After escaping from the warehouse the previous day, they’d had to take turns carting Dan’s limp body down empty roads and stretches of forest. Phil had hit him a bit harder on the head than he’d intended to, resulting in the extra long period of Dan being as good as dead.

He didn’t know how far they’d traveled, only that the sun had steadily sank through the sky and his entire body had been aching by the end of it. When they’d finally decided to take a break, they’d had to wait another hour entirely before Dan jerked back awake, crazy again.

Sure, pretending to be Jeremy may not have been the best idea Phil had ever had, but it was the only thing he’d been able to think of at the time. He and Emma had looked at each other, bewildered and pretty freaked out, when Dan had still been in a trance when he’d woken up. Phil had assumed that after being knocked out and carted across the state, the time and distance put between Dan and Jeremy would’ve been enough to end whatever had been done to him. It was only after he’d woken up that Phil had assumed there was something physically attached to him making him act that way.

And there was no way Dan would’ve let Phil touch him if he had known he was actually himself! Phil had only just knocked him out and torn him away from the love of his life, for all he was aware of. So yes, Phil had pretended to be Jeremy. And yes, he’d kissed Dan in order to find that creepy bug-like machine embedded into his skin. But he’d done it all for Dan’s well-being—honest. He hadn’t even thought about his own, personal benefit from it until afterwards when he was trying to sleep. Mostly, he’d thought about how he wished their first kiss could’ve been normal. (And sure, he’d managed to fix that whole situation this morning, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about basically taking advantage of Dan in that state the previous day.)

“Think this is a trap?” Dan murmured, glancing over at Phil and away from the window. Trees were flying past them—possibly a bit faster than they should’ve been.

“I feel like it’s too soon for us to experience another trap.”

“Awesome.” With that, Dan slouched down in his seat, letting his head rest against Phil’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. It was about time he got some sleep.

While Emma and Dan slept, Phil stayed awake, vigilant, making sure the bus driver didn’t turn into a monster with terrifying teeth or something. His arm started to go numb after a while, so carefully, he rearranged Dan a bit, letting his arm wrap around the other boy’s waist. Dan mumbled something in his sleep and turned his face into Phil’s chest with a sigh.

Suffice to say, Phil was relieved when they got to what was apparently an entrance to Hephaestus’s forge unharmed. The bus driver remained seated and driving, the bowler hat guy stayed asleep, and the little girl was maybe just that—a little girl. Still, he was thankful to get off the bus and not be surrounded by strangers anymore, so it was with relief that he woke a sleepy and compliant Dan (and a grouchy and murderous Emma).

—

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Emma’s voice echoed loudly down the tunnel, probably broadcasting their exact position. At this point, Phil couldn’t even find it in himself to be bothered by this. If Hephaestus himself came charging around a corner with a fist raised Phil would probably just breathe a sigh of relief, thankful they’d finally found him.

“No,” Dan took it upon himself to say, although he was still walking confidently forward. “It just feels like we’re going the right way.”

When they’d arrived at the beginning of the tunnel—a hole in the ground in the bathroom of a Denny’s, which they’d only found thanks to wandering and Emma’s sudden urge to pee—Dan had strode off in one direction with a shrug, saying it “felt right”. Now, they were still walking in the direction of that feeling, although Emma was growing grouchier by the minute.

“We should’ve ate at that Denny’s.”

“No one should eat at Denny’s,” Phil argued.

“Shh!” Dan said suddenly, holding out a hand and stopping in his tracks. Phil complied, as did Emma, both of them listening hard. “What is that?”

It sounded like a far away clinking sound, getting closer and closer by the second. Except… it wasn’t coming from in front of them.

“Look out!” Emma hissed, throwing herself against the wall. Both Phil and Dan immediately did the same, Dan summoning his warhammer as they did, except there was nothing there.

“What exactly are we looking out for?” Phil demanded.

Emma pointed, her eyes wide, and Phil followed her finger towards the ground. And there, as grotesque and creepy looking as it was embedded into Dan’s skin, was Jeremy’s invention—the little spider-like contraption Phil had pulled out of Dan’s back. Suddenly anxious it would latch back onto Dan and take control of his brain again, Phil stepped in front of him, shoving him harder against the wall and debating whether to raise a foot and stomp on the creation.

How had it managed to follow them here? Phil distinctly remembered throwing the thing aside onto the forest floor after ripping it out of Dan—surely it couldn’t have managed to scuttle all the way after them? But, apparently, it had. And it scuttled past them too, further down the hallway they’d been traveling down this entire time.

“Um…” Phil managed, staring after it.

“Let’s follow it,” Dan decided, and with that he was shoving Phil away from him and striding after the thing, his warhammer hanging threateningly at his side.

—

Hephaestus wasn’t expecting them, apparently. He must’ve thought the efforts he’d gone to to stop them would’ve been enough to prevent them from actually making it all the way to his forge, as he blinked at them in surprise when they marched righteously in after the spider-machine.

“Who’re you?”

At this, Dan actually spluttered: eyes wide, mouth open indignantly, and words tripping over themselves in a haste to get out. “Wha—gu—but—who’re we?! We’re the demigods you’ve been trying to kill! I’m Aphrodite’s son!”

Hephaestus actually rubbed his chin, staring at Dan scrutinizingly.

“Aphrodite has a lot of sons,” he decided.

“Dan Howell!” Dan exclaimed. “I’m Dan Howell! You stole my mom’s bow!”

“Ooooh,” Hephaestus finally said, nodding. “I did try to kill you, didn’t I?”

“You don’t remember?” Emma interrupted.

Hephaestus, an immortal, all-powerful god, shrugged. “I’m a busy guy.”

There was a pause, during which Dan, Phil, and Emma all exchanged bewildered looks.

“So… Can we have it back then?” Phil tried, after Hephaestus went back to tinkering with whatever he’d been tinkering with when they’d entered the room.

“Hmm? Oh—no. No, you can’t.”

“Well…” Dan said. “We need it back. Otherwise we’ll have to… We’ll have to… Fight you.”

“Fight a god?” Hephaestus laughed, shaking his head. Then he put down his tools and picked up his machine, releasing a glimmering, robotic butterfly into the air. It circled his head twice before coming to land in his palm—he crushed it.

Phil cocked his head, wondering what exactly Aphrodite had been hoping for them to do in this situation anyway. It was practically suicide for a demigod to try to fight a god. It was like a fly fighting a spider—hopeless.  

“Yeah,” Dan said, and Phil looked at him in surprise when Dan raised his hammer over his head, glaring towards Hephaestus. The god cocked an eyebrow and actually stood up from his work table, letting the crushed machinery from his hand fall onto the table as dust.

“And this is the bow you want?” Hephaestus said, pulling the bow out from behind his table. He held it aloft, its presence almost taunting—so close, and yet so, so far. It was golden, shining in the low light from the flickering flames scattered throughout the large cavern.

“You know it is,” Emma said lowly, likely expecting the same thing as Phil: a trick. He was tense, his weight shifted towards his toes in preparation to start sprinting, either away from the god or towards him, depending on what exactly he did. But Hephaestus just stood there.

“I was only trying to teach her a lesson,” he said idly, now gripping the bow with both hands. He plucked the string, letting it twang. “Aphrodite, I mean.”

Phil shared a look with Dan. Backstory? he mouthed.

“We’re married, you know that? Sure, it was arranged by Zeus or whatever, but that doesn’t make it meaningless.”

“Uh oh…” Emma whispered out of the corner of her mouth. She’d sidled a little bit away from Phil, turning her head every which way and examining the crevices of the room they were in while Hephaestus spoke.

“Aphrodite doesn’t love me. She never will. Because she’s shallow,” while saying this, Hephaestus pointed vehemently at Dan, as if this were his fault. “She can’t stand the way I look, so instead she runs off with Ares, thinks she’s being all sneaky about it.” Phil frowned. That was pretty horrible—if it was true.

Hephaestus really did look a state, his face all misshapen and his beard alight with tiny flames (which he kept patting out), but that was just because he’d been chucked off Mount Olympus as a baby. Still, Phil wasn’t entirely sure Aphrodite would be that horrible—who was to say she wasn’t just doing this all for love? Cheating was disgraceful and disgusting, but in an arranged marriage? The goddess of love in an arranged marriage? Phil wasn’t entirely sure he could blame her, if Hephaestus wasn’t the one she was in love with.

“This,” said Hephaestus, raising the bow into the air, “is justice.”

And just like that, it clicked.

Burning passion and justice demands will find the bow in another’s hands.

Phil supposed the burning passion was Hephaestus—other than the tiny flames in his beard, he was clearly very strung up on Aphrodite not being true to him. And if stealing her bow was the demand justice made…

“Please,” Dan said, finally interrupting Hephaestus. The god looked at him, a mildly surprised expression on his face. Phil wondered if he’d managed to forget he was even talking to them.

Meanwhile, Dan looked all powerful and strong, like an avenging angel—though with a giant hammer instead of wings. He was standing tall, the weapon balanced somewhere above his shoulder as he glared up at the god. Phil found himself wanting to step forward, wanting to pull Dan into his arms and taste his lips once more…

“Return my mother’s bow,” he said, sounding authoritative and strong. “I know she never would’ve set out to deliberately hurt you. It’s only because of love that sh—”

“PAH!” Hephaestus spat, glowering at Dan so angrily Phil was sure lasers would shoot from his eyes. “Love. I’m so sick of that word.”

“But—”

“Ever hear that saying? ‘To love is to destroy’?” Hephaestus questioned.

Before Dan could hope to answer, he pulled the drawstring of the bow. It was like magic, how an arrow appeared in his hand as he did. It didn’t feel quite like magic, however, when Hephaestus released the arrow, letting it impale itself right into Phil’s chest.

~~

next chapter

[battle-goats]

Project Cooperation Chapter 4

Rating: T

Ship: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Tags: group project, uncooperative bakugou, mentions of masturbations, non-explicit

Summary:  When Bakugou and Midoriya are thrown together for a group project, they both think it's doomed from the start. But with Midoriya's stubborn determination the group pulls together. Sort of. In the mean time, it means plenty of alone time for Bakugou and Midoriya. With a decade old wall between them, they could never possibly get along as friends, let alone anything more. Right?

Read on Ao3

Notes: Masaru’s opening line by @derederedancer from the IzuKatsu Server.

“Katsuki, are you gonna mope in there all day?” his mother called through the door.  Katsuki was huddled under the covers of his bed.  If he stayed here, he wouldn’t have to face the real world.  The real world, which included Deku.  The boy he’d kissed.  Because he was an absolute idiot with poor impulse control.

The door opened and his father stuck his head in.

"I'm opening the door, please be decent - oh good you're just angry about Izuku-kun again. Actually, the way you've been handling this Katsuki, maybe should we go over the birds and the bees again."

“What the fuck, dad!”

“Why are you so shocked, your mother and I saw this coming for years.  We were wondering when anything was gong to happen,” Masaru said.  He shut the door and sat in the desk chair across from Bakugou’s bed.  He was still rolled up in his blankets, but he was sitting up now.

“Son, we love you.  And out of anyone you could have picked, Izuku-kun is probably the best person for you.  Quite frankly that boy has seen you at your worst and is still interested is a minor miracle.”

Bakugou growled at his father.

“He’s such a nice boy, he could honestly do better -”

“Dad.”

“So smart, Yagi-san mentioned he was in the top fve in -”

“Dad.”

“I wonder what he’s planning on doing after graduating.  Maybe I should-”

“Dad!”

“Yes son?”

“Deku and I aren’t even together,” Bakugou said.  Masaru blinked at him in confusion.

“You’re not?  I thought you’d confessed,” Masaru said.

“I didn’t confess,” Bakugou mumbled.  His father leaned forward.

“What was that, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said I didn’t fucking confess.  I kissed him!” Bakugou snapped.

“Oh,” Masaru said as he stood.  He straightened his glasses and headed for the door. “Well son, the only thing I can say to that is this: you’re fucked.”

Masaru walked out.  Bakugou wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel reassured from this strange father-to-son chat.  Bakugou wrestled himself out of bed and sat at his desk.  He felt better having gotten out of bed.  But he still didn’t want to even look at his phone.  In case Deku had tried to contact him.

His phone chirped and he reached for it without thinking about it.  He glanced at the contact.  Round-face.  His eyes dragged down to the actual text. Good going lover-boy.  Bakugou tossed his phone back on the desk.  Obviously Deku had fucking blabbed to at least one other person.

Probably having a good laugh at his expense.  Talking about how shit a kisser he was, too.  

“Yeah, fuck that,” Bakugou growled.  He got up and crawled back into bed.  He flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling.  Much to his annoyance, he immediately thought of Deku.  Of his soft face, and freckles, and the fact that his lips were slightly chapped.  He thought of the way Deku said his name, well, his nickname anyway.  And of course, his thoughts trailed to what Deku would sound like moaning, gasping his name.  What would he sound like as Bakugou worked him to completion?  Would he just gasp quietly, or would he scream Bakugou’s name?

Bakugou reached under the waistband of his sweats, just a little annoyed and frustrated that Deku had this kind of affect on him.

He finished quickly and hastily cleaned up his shame.  He felt bad for thinking about Deku like that.  He was just so soft.  Innocent, and cute.  Deku didn’t deserve his nasty thoughts.

Bakugou couldn’t look Deku in the eye at school on Monday.  He did everything in his power to avoid so much as looking at Deku.  Even though he sat in front of Deku in class, he did his best to not even look at him on accident.  Because every time he did, he thought of that kiss.  The kiss he’d initiated.

The day dragged on, and every attempt Deku made at starting conversation was shut down by Bakugou walking away or simply ignoring him.  At lunch time, Bakugou escaped to the roof where only the third years seemed to hang out, but no one said anything when he found a corner to hide in.

He was halfway through his lunch when a shadow fell over him.  Bakugou looked up to see Deku standing over him, his lunch in hand.

“The fuck do you want?” he asked.  Deku kneeled in front of him and leaned forward.  Bakugou leaned back to create some space between them.

“You’re avoiding me,” Deku said.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are,” Deku said, “you kissed me.  Why?”

“Why else do people kiss, you nerd?”

Deku took a moment to take that in.  He set his bento down, then took Bakugou’s from his and put it down too.  Bakugou stared at him.  Then, Deku took a deep breath, set his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders and leaned forward.  Bakugou’s eyes widened in panic and he pushed Deku away from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

“What’s it look like?  I’m kissing you,” Deku said.

“Why the fuck would you?”

“Uhhhhhh, because you kissed me first, and people kiss each other when they like each other, so I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“What the fuck!?  No you’re not!”

“Why not?  You kissed me this weekend!  And then ran away.  I’ve been confused all weekend, and it’s your fault, Kacchan!”

“I don’t know why I kissed you, okay!  I just did it, I wasn’t fucking thinking!” Bakugou snapped.

“Oh really?  You don’t know why you basically pinned me to the door, touched me like I was something special, and then kissed me?  Really?  You’re really going to pull that shit on me, Kacchan?”

Bakugou grit his teeth.  He didn’t want to say it, saying it would make it real, and he wouldn’t be able to take it back.  But if what he thought Deku was getting at was true, then he really had nothing to lose at this point.

“Okay, fine, I kissed you because I like you!” he said.  In fact, he’d said it rather loudly.  Nearly shouted it.  He really hoped no one heard him.  Deku was grinning at him.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Deku said.  He braced his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders again and leaned in for a kiss.  Bakugou didn’t stop him.

Their lips met, and it was soft and hesitant.  Bakugou could feel the minute tremor in Deku’s body.  Bakugou brought his hands up to tangle in Deku’s hair and drag him closer.  Deku tipped forward and crawled into Bakugou’s lap.

They finally pulled apart, but Bakugou didn’t want Deku to leave just yet.  He fit perfectly in Bakugou’s lap.

“So, what does this mean then?” Deku asked.  He looked nervous.

“It means my boyfriend can kiss me whenever he wants to, obviously,” Bakugou said.  He pecked Deku on the cheek, then picked up his lunch. “But I’m gonna finish my lunch right now.”

Deku laughed and reached for his own.  They ate together in silence, though it was a little awkward when they tried to do so with Deku still stradding Bakugou’s lap.  Eventually Deku moved to sit next to Bakugou and they ate together.

“You know, I never in a million years would have thought you’d like me back,” Deku said.  He tapped the ends of his chopsticks against his lower lip.  They were red and a little swolen.

“Yeah well I never put much thought into liking people in general,” Bakugou admitted.  Very briefly in first year he’d had a crush on Kirishima, but that had been short-lived.

“You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve ever looked at or thought of like that,” Deku said with a smile.  Bakugou was stunned.

“Not even round-face?”

“Uraraka-san is my friend.  Besides, she’s been trying to muster up the courage to as Tsuyu-chan out on a date for months now.”

“Huh, that’s a surprise.  I though for sure she had a thing for you,” Bakugou said.

“Oh she did, in first year.  But she realized she’d rather have me as a friend, than a boyfriend,” Deku said.  Suddenly Deku reached over and snagged a piece of egg out of Bakugou’s bento.

“Hey, what the fuck.  Just cause you’re my boyfriend now doesn’t mean I’ll let you eat my food,” he said with a scowl.  Bakugou grabbed Deku’s last piece of hot dog.

“Ah!  Kacchan!  That was the last one!” Deku whined.  He pouted and Bakugou found it to be the cutest thing.  He leaned over and pecked Deku on the lips.  Deku’s pout was gone and he was smiling again.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and they scrambled off the roof to make it back to the classroom before the teacher arrived.  They slid into their seats with seconds to spare.  Uraraka gave them both a sly look and then a thumbs up which was aimed at Deku, who quickly returned it.  Then she was hiding a grin behind her hand as Nemuri-sensei walked in.

Bakugou just shook his head and turned back to the lesson at hand.  He was hunched over, taking notes in his frankly awful scrawl when a triangle of paper bounced off his shoulder and landed on his notebook.

He hastily opened it, quietly snorting at the fact that Deku was passing a note to him.  It was such a ridiculous thing to do.  

Wanna grab something after school?  Yes/No

Leave it to Deku to be the one to ask about a date first.  Bakugou quickly circled yes, then scribbled down a suggestion.  He folded the paper back up and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun, whatever you have to say to each other can wait until after class,” Nemuri-sensei snapped.  She stalked up the aisle and picked up the sheet of paper and read it with a smile.  Thankfully not aloud.  She crumbled the sheet up. “Ah, young love.  But your date plans can wait.”

The class erupted into noise.  To Bakugou’s complete shock, he watched Todoroki pull his wallet out and hand a bill over the Iida of all people.

“It’s about time,” Kirishima called from the front of the class.  Bakugou sighed, he hadn’t planned on everyone finding out all at once like this.  They hadn’t really talked about it, but there really wasn’t a whole lot of reason for them to hide their new relationship.  But it was brand new, so he’d wanted Deku’s attention all to himself for a while before everyone found out.

“Back to the lesson!” Nemuri-sensei called and the class quieted down.  Bakugou picked his pencil back up and returned to taking notes as the lecture was resumed.  Even so, despite his annoyance, he couldn’t help the grin on his face throughout the rest of the day.