#I��ve gotten so used to hovering my hand like what is going on

[stargazingfordreams]

A court of Night and Stars

Hello everyone!I hope you all are enjoying the story so far 

Summary- Random killings have been happening all over Pythian and make its ways to a kingdom in the fae realm known as Mareen. Emrys grieves the loss of her sister and keeps her domain away from war, and she gets help from an unexpected ally.

Pairing- Adu!t Nyx x OC

warnings-None

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 

Chapter Three 

Emrys POV

I was struggling to keep standing my ground. My arm throbbed with pain was an ashwood arrow. The wood had poisoned my blood and slowly infected my body as I tried to fight through this battle.

Everything happened so fast that I had no time to process what was happening. I saw the Fae male from earlier, that princeling. he pushed one warrior putting him down in an instant and moving on to another.  And then that’s when a blast happened with enough force to blow us far from the battlefield. I felt myself floating, no wait, Flying or falling. I wasn't sure what I knew, only that my feet were no longer touching the ground, but in that instant, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me close to a body. And then we hit the ground hard, tumbling. My head was cradled on the impact.

When we stopped rolling, I pushed him off me and faced who it was. I drew my sword in an instant. He held his hands up. I couldn't tell if it was in defense or to attack because my vision was getting worse, which meant that the poison was spreading faster. I blinked a few times. I tried to lunge at him, but the pain that shot through my arm was so intense that I fell straight to the ground. All I could do was hold my arm and scream out in pain.

“Hold…. On……I….got” I could not hear, or maybe I could not understand the language coming out of his mouth, but everything around me faded.

I was in and out of consciousness. I can remember being picked up and being held in someone's arms. Flash of a beautiful face and the night sky. Was I underground? No, I think it was a cave. A fire roared. His hair fell in front of his face as he hovered over me and his eyes. Why did I know those eyes? And then nothing.

I gasped and sat up straight, struggling to catch my breath. I looked around me and took in my surroundings. I was right. I was in a cave with fire, but I remember nothing of how I got here or who brought me either. It was silent. I could hear the pounding of my own heart racing. It wasn’t until I felt the slight shift in the earth that I drew my blade from my ankle and lunged at him; he blocked all of my attacks. He was a skilled fighter. I could tell by the way he evaded me.so I fought hard, landing blows to his body. Finally, my blade made it to his neck.

“Ve dos iya'' I pushed all the weight on him as he was a whole foot and five inches taller than me.

“I don’t speak Mareenian,” He said though I didn’t understand him well enough. He smirks at my confusion. I pushed my blade closer to his throat. He nodded to my arm. My eyes moved to where the arrow had hit me earlier. It was cleaned and wrapped in a cloth. He cleaned my wound. When my eyes met his again, his hand were up, showing he wasn’t a threat. Everything that I was trained for and taught seemed to have left me because, for some reason, I put the blade down and stepped back from him.

I felt something at that moment, like a feline slowly walking its way into my mind, nothing hurt, but words and memories started to play. Everything that happened after we had gotten knocked over, him carrying my body to a cave on the mountain. He was in my head, going through my mind until my morning dreams. I shut him out quickly, no longer in whatever trans he had put me before he saw anything too personal. He took a step forward, touching my head, but I hit my hand away from my face.

“I’m Nyx” he straightened his clothing. He didn’t look like he was dressed for a fight. Nyx, the High Lord of Nights son.

“I wasn’t expecting to fight today,” he answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Stay out of my head, daemati,” I spat at him.

“I didn’t need to be in your head; your face is quite expressive” He gave me a cocky smirk though his face fell.

“Hmmm, empath,” he said as if he was tasting the word.

“I’ve never met an empath before.” He took another step, but I held my blade out once again.

“I am not your enemy.” He said he moved over to the other side of the fire he had started to build a crane. He must have gone out and caught food while I rested enough for both of us.

“I am Em- Emallia” he looked over his shoulder. I was unsure if he bought the lie I told, but now that I know he is a high lord's son, that makes the son of him an enemy.

“I must go,” I said, moving toward the entrance to the cave. I ignored my body telling me to stop telling me to rest. I needed to get back. I need to see my family and my home. I needed to talk to my mother and tell her I was okay.

“Not yet; you lost a lot of blood; you need food, water, and rest. I healed your wound, but your body still needs time.” I didn’t argue. I knew he was right; I wouldn’t get far with how I felt. So I didn’t say anything else; I sat far away. He took out his own knife cutting different mushrooms. The smell of the animal he caught filled the cave. He added the mushrooms and cut some berries. When done, he walked over with the food on a metal saucer.

“I only have this, so it looks like we will have to share this one plate.” The food was piled up on one plate, a mountain of food though I’m sure this won’t be enough to fill him up. I push the plate in front of him.

“You first,” I said; after all, he got the food, and I would also know if the food was poisoned. He chuckled

“I’m not trying to poison one soldier and not one that I just healed, but I’ll take one bite, but you should eat first; I’ll eat what you don’t” after he took a bite of a mushroom, it looked safe, so I decided to eat to my fill. When I was done. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Are you sure that's all you want to eat?” he questioned. I nodded, then moved against the wall. He took my silence as an answer and began to eat the rest of the food. When he finished, he took a sip of water and offered me the cantine. I eyed it before taking it. My dry throat felt the tremendous relief of water running down. When I was done, he still looked at me with that arrogant smirk.

“What does it mean,” he asked me.

“What?”

“Ve dos iya,” he said back. His pronunciation wasn’t horrible, though I wouldn’t tell him that I was worried it might make his ego bigger.

“It means who are you,” I answer.

“Ah…..Ve dos iya,” He repeated it, only this time much better. Fast learner. He laid flat on his back.

“Why?” I questioned him

“Why what?” He said

“Why did you heal me? You could have left me for dead or cut my throat. But you helped me clean my wound and feed me.”

“So you're asking why I saved you?” He asked. I nodded my head.

“Why did you save that woman from the arrow? You didn’t know her. You could have let it hit her, and she would have died” I didn’t know how to answer his question, maybe because I didn’t understand why I just did it.

“She’s my mother,” he says lowly, not meeting my eyes. “And if you hadn’t done what you did, she might not be here, so thank you.”

I stayed quiet; somehow, I understood him. Maybe if I had been there when Annika died, she would still be her. The thought hurt. I felt heaviness return to my chest so fast that I had to turn away so he would see the tears forming. I bit down on my hand to stop the sob that almost made its way out. I took a deep breath to collect myself. Not here, not now. I took another breath.

He was quiet for a while before saying, “Get some rest; we will leave in the morning and go our separate ways.”

I laid my body down for the night, pushing the lump in my chest. I don’t know when sleep was found, but it pulled me underneath to deep sleep when it did see me.

[lorddistancebarry]

Forest In Chains - Chapter 1

"500, 600, 700, 800, 900.." Garcello counts the cash in his hands after he was given the bag of money. After Tabi fell and didn’t get back up from the half-giant cutting loose and throwing him through the cage into the left most stands of the audience. After the red haze cleared. After basically running with fire and panicking the entire way. He still feels the burns and cuts on his arms, chest and face from Tabi's strikes. The bruising deciding to make itself known by the numbness hidden via his bangs on the left side of his face. The wounds just adding on in a pile especially when the reaper decided to stop fucking around and went all in... his body shivers as the pain compounds and the wind from the September season hits him while he sits on the bench waiting for the bus.

"You barely von that, child." a deep, voice spoke.

Garcello looks up and looks intrigued and surprised at who it belonged to.

"Ruv.." He noted looking up from his money and putting it away, quickly.

"You did not expect me?" He noted with a smirk,"Illegal fight, legal fight. I come to all, vatch them. Sarvente spoke of it being good move. I believe her."

The large Russian man walks over and sits down like a neighbor to Garcello on the bus stop. "But, I can go on many years speaking about her." Ruv noted,"Vhat about you, Young Smoke? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Garcello admits,"Just.. didn't expect to get cut and burned alive like I'm a fuckin piece of meat."

"Equalizers are not to be trifled vith. As gang or as fighters in vrestling circuit." Ruv chuckles,"Go to be undefeated, An equalizer gets sent, test you. It is cycle to see if you are actually good or you are veak bitch."

"Well, was i actually good?" Garcello laughs wryly,"Cause i feel like shit."

"No, you vere lucky, you use your strength. You are shit, but vorkable shit. Trainable." Ruv critiques as he takes out his vodka flask from his jacket. "So.. you're going to train me?" Garcello asked looking up as Ruv drinks. "Vin against Agoti or Vhitty." He directs looking to Garcello stoically,"Then I teach you. I vant to see if your are vorth time."Ruv takes another drink from his flask. Garcello takes out one of his cigarettes and lights it. A green light illuminates at the end as he inhales, steam and smoke coalesces and flares outward into a glowing green, mist smoke hybrid. "I see." He nods once,"And if I am worth your time?" "I train you.break you, see vhat you.. really are. Then ve progress from there."  Ruv stated looking to Garcello with his lone, glossy eye. Almost seeming to look through Garcello and into him.Garcello shivers looking back. Friend? Enemy? "I see." He gets up as the bus is rolling up."Well for now.. I'm gonna get dinner and go home. Thanks for checking up on me." "Anytime. I do not like promising student, be jumped by Equalizer scum." Ruv chuckles with a grin. Garcello pales a bit, "Uh... what?" Ruv looks to the fellow titan with an incredulous stare,"You scraped out vin, but you also humiliated Tabi. Young Reaper vill vant revenge..." The Russian raises an eyebrow,"You did not expect that?" "But you beat some of the Equalizer's asses and you didn't get  jumped!" Garcello points out as the whir of steam leaving the bus' brakes occurs and the door's open. "That is because of grace of God and grace of throwing truck across street." Ruv laughs wryly,"Now go, child. Before you are stuck here." Garcello waves Ruv off before getting on the bus and using his bus card. A satisfied beep of payment as he moves. Knowing the timer, he sits down quickly before the bus moves with a hiss of the breaks lifting from the ground and the bus hovers, flying down the roads and over ground locked travel.He looks out the window at the night sky and at the many lights below of Funk City. Advertisements, cars, city signs, street lights. Garcello lets his mind wander at the light pollution and the sound of hover cars flying by. Its mesmerizing. Watching everything just fly, zip, and zop by. Time could pass as the colors of the city and the energy takes him in. The concept when he was young had never gotten old or changed. The colors of the world, the lifeblood of the people moving, growing and just living. This is why he and his mother had migrated here. Such a decision had to be lived through not just decided on a whim. But this.. This wholesome peace and tranquility at this time. Away from the violence, the darkness and the weight of it all... Was a very big deciding factor. "One day... they will be able to feel this way.." Garcello resolves quietly as he looks down through the window to the city below. "Feel so.. free..." He coos starting to let the pain and tiredness get to him. Starting to fall asleep on the bus and get complacent in his space... until a growling, gurgling reminder makes itself painfully known in his core. The tender flesh of wounds on his abdomen only make it worse. His body went through hell.

It wants food, it needs it. He needs it. NOW. "First.... step... free myself." he grumbles softly as pain burns in his core and it forces him out of falling asleep and dragging on. Sitting up properly and starting to search for a close enough bus stop so he doesn't just add more suffering with a long as fuck walk that only lengthens the burning. Finding one, he pulls on the wire that signals the automated system to stop. The bus stops after a bit before landing with the soft 'woosh' of steam. Getting off the bus, he walks down the streets. Looking up to keep track of his own placement on the road, looking down to light a cigarette to ease some of the pain, looking back up now to search for those heavenly golden arches. After a minute, 6 cigarettes later.. the yellow and red light beams down upon his form. At this point, a soft, barely noticeable film of red covers everything and everyone that walks by and every sensation, smell and taste is heightened. Painfully so. "Finally..." he exhales, dry air hitting a watering, near drooling maw. He walks into the restaurant with a dragging motion of his feet. Garcello looms over to the counter with barely any real patience. People move away and those that don't, go quickly about their order then move. "Hi." he stated, "I would like.. the whole left menu. Twice. Add 6 McChicken meals. Super size it..." "I-is that-that all sir?" A timid female voice asked quietly. "Yes.." he confirms. Not really looking up. "It's going to be disc-discounted. Y-you don't mind right?" She asked.As she asks that, the red film sight as it was dies down a bit. Garcello looks up from the counter. There is only one person that ever asks about discounts in his mind. He looks at the attendant at the counter and sees the fuchsia and sky blue eyes looking up and right back at him from her gaunt, modest face and shivering, small frame. "Rebecca? What are you doin' here?!" He asked actually in shock. "Um.. well.." she shrugs,"I work here. Y/N got me the job, t-they're the manager." Garcello looks on in shock. He tilts his head back with an incredulous stare. Looking for you and seeing you wave a short, polite wave as you're working with the drive through attendants to ensure chaos is handled. Garcello looks back to Rebecca. "Don’t give me a discount girl just charge me normally. I'll treat ya." He says softly. "A-are you su-sure?" "Entirely." He nods handing over 80 dollars. "You were c-close but a bit over. Your price is 72 dollars and 12 cents." "I know." He nods,"Tips. Put the change in your pocket." Rebecca looks sheepish, looking down and shivering."B-but.." "Do it." He commands sternly. Rebecca takes the money, makes exact change and keeps it immediately. Every motion is fast and shaky like an unstable roller-coaster. "T-thanks..." she murmurs shyly poking her fingers together. "When are you two off?" He asked. "In.. 30 mins.." Rebecca looks up at Garcello. Her eyes narrow and she grimaces.."I'll get an ice baggy.. and. I'm going to be frank... I have questions. And if i have questions.. Y/N is going to want answers..." Garcello grinds his teeth,"Alright. I'll wait and we'll talk." Rebecca purses her lips then exhales,"Thank you." Garcello leaves from the counter and to one of the large benches at the furthest back of the restaurant and waits. Waiting, letting time pass as he patiently sits. His core burning with hunger and primal thoughts when the mental shock subsides. The herd is curious.. tell them. "I.. don’t want them in danger..." Lies are over... tell them something... they worry. They fear. "Garcello? Are you good?" You asked concerned, "Rebecca told me about.-" "The bruise on my face. I know." Garcello says as Rebecca comes over with the food trays. "Ice bag, 3 o clock?" Rebecca offers the baggie of ice. Garcello looks to it then takes the bag, wiggles up his cap and bangs, revealing the recently closed gashes, burns and cuts on his chin and face. Your eyes widen from the sight, brow furrowing in concern. "What h-happened?" Rebecca says before you do. You see Garcello is staring at the food, half listening. Mostly tired, dragging on fumes really. "No." You say then look to Garcello,"We talk. After you finish eating. Got it?" "Yes'm"  Garcello nods once then  finally let's his brain drop being alert.Rebecca looks to you with concern, she shakes more from anxiety. "Oh.. don't worry I know." Your reassure,"But overwhelming him is the last thing on my mind. I don't think this is a simple little 'fall' like last time anyway." "You want to h-hear it fro-from his mouth." You nod once and sit down before looking to Rebecca, she nods once with a small smile. "Both of us are signed out, we wont get in trouble with higher ups for over time."She confirms just before- CRUNCH! TEAAAR! SHHRRIIP! Garcello eats like they aren't there, there is no smacking noise. Just an absence of control from tiredness and physically going through hell. Hes going through hoops with food like a functioning sponge with water, trying to replenish what was forcefully squeezed out of him. Rebecca looks to you. "I.. haven't seen him like this.. or well this bad.. Do you think hes..." "I think so." you confirm," Maybe on drugs. But regardless of whatever it is... This cant be swept under the rug. Did you call Annie?" "I-I did." Rebecca nods,"She's coming as fast as possible. I warned her to not run red lights. I was promptly cursed out in German. I responded. She hung up knowing I was right." Garcello stops eating into his 6th McChicken. The man didn't unwrap the wrapper off, the whole ass sandwich is just getting murdered with his teeth. The devouring however stops short at the mention of Annie. With bloodshot eyes, he looks to Rebecca and you. "You.. are all going to be here?" he asked and you shake your head no. "No." You respond,"But. I'm happy you have a brain in there again. Because like it or not.. you're going to tell us what we need to know." Garcello pales in the face for a moment like he saw a ghost, his heart races in terror. His pupils contract as he knows hes cornered now. There is no wiggling out like before.

"We aren't g-going to hurt you, big guy." Rebecca coos softly. "I.. i know its jus'..." Garcello starts but its hard to put words together. "You know you can't bullshit us anymore." You finish looking at the man directly in his face. Garcello looks away looking down at the scraps of paper, unwrapped or just ripped apart making a mess on the table. "Yeah.. I cant." he confirms as Annie rampages in like a crashing tsunami and yells just as loud, scaring customers out of the restaurant. "NOW WHOMST THE FUCK JUMPED GARCELLO?! I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING BEAT THEIR SHIT IN!" Annie yells, her flesh is tinting blue from the glowing blue of her veins spidering from her skin. A sign of her stress before she drinks ‘the liquid’. "You bout to calm so i can explain." Garcello says strictly, unafraid as he’s been used to seeing the entity pour our from her veins and skin. He’s more than used to being attacked as he knows it doesn't like him. But for now it has no power here. Just like his other half. "Then talk." You egg on, as Annie takes a few breathes, grabs a chair and sits in it, the back of the chair acing the table."We're all listening." Garcello bites his lips. His S/O and his best friends, the core of the herd, his herd... now are looking at him like hes wounded. Doesn't help that he is on the outside and inside... ‘Now you gone and done it, Garcy.. but now.. what do you do now?’ He asks himself in his thoughts as he takes a deep breath in. Act as you are, You are alpha. Time to be a man.

[janetbrown711]

"My head hurts" - Dot

There were three things Yakko hated most in the world: King Salazar, moving ‘homes’, and winter. 

Yakko’s hatred of Salazar was clear: he was responsible for where they were now. It was his fault they were homeless orphans in a town that was going progressively downhill. He was raising taxes without a thought about what it was doing to the citizens. It drove Yakko insane, especially since this tax went down to the smallest child. Every time they earned just enough money for a new blanket or maybe a warm meal made by someone else for once, it was taken away by that stupid baron Thaddeus Von Plotz. 

It was because of King Salazar that the stores and shops kept shutting down, and reopening just to shut down again.  It made it especially hard for them to find a stable place to live. Just when they’d get settled into an abandoned jewelry shop, policemen would come and tell them to scram and that some other shop that was doomed to fail was replacing it. 

The worst part about changing ‘homes’ was how difficult it clearly was for Dot. Wakko was usually gone during the days, trying to find odd little jobs to do around the town, or hunt for rabbits for them to eat for dinner if they didn’t have money to buy food. Dot, however, was just five years old now. She didn’t have any memories of their parents, or even of the orphanage. Yakko spent his days with her, trying to teach her to read and write with what he had around, or playing her silly games, but with her hanging around “home” so often, she always got just too attached right before they’d have to move again. She always looked so heartbroken as she looked back and said goodbye to the building. 

Winter. 

Yakko hated winter a lot, it was in a close second to King Salazar. It snowed a lot in Acme Falls, and Yakko was thankful they had fur, or else all of them would’ve caught hypothermia by now.

Winter’s were especially hard when they had to move around. Sometimes there weren’t buildings and they’d have to spend the next few days in the alleys. That was when they were practically guaranteed to get sick. It was never too serious, and they were usually just cases of flu that lasted a few days before going away. Yakko had a tendency to be a ‘worry-wart’ in the words of Wakko, which he couldn’t deny. He just... couldn’t afford to lose them. 

“Yakko, when is Wakko coming back?” Dot asked, holding a very worn out rag doll Yakko had gotten her for her third birthday, before the taxing would’ve made it impossible. 

“He’ll be back soon,” Yakko said, as he looked through what food they had left to see if they could have lunch today. Dot frowned a little. 

“Y-yakko my head hurts,” Dot said. 

“Go lay down, I’m sure it’ll go away,” Yakko brushed it off. Dot tended to exaggerate things when she wanted attention. It was probably just from hunger- not that Yakko could blame her, but it was nothing lunch could hopefully fix. 

“Okay... I’ll go lie down,” Dot nodded and went to their bed, which was really just a pile of blankets on the floor, and curled up into a ball. Yakko frowned at that, but shrugged it off again. He really did need to relax more, he always got so wrapped up in his own head, and it never did anyone any good. 

“It’s just because she’s hungry,” He thought to himself. Yakko returned to the food and sighed. Hopefully Wakko could make more than a ha’penny this time because they were running low on bread. 

Still, something was off with Dot today so it was probably best to have at least a little something to settle her over for now. Hopefully, they’d be okay...

Yakko wasn’t surprised when it started to snow outside. He muttered to himself as he got the materials for a fire and set them aside to do later. Hopefully, it wouldn’t snow too much, or else they’d be able to make snowmen with how many holes were in the ceiling. 

“I’m back!” Wakko announced as he re-entered the small building. 

“Took you long enough, what do you have?” Yakko asked. 

“I was lucky and got myself three ha’pennies today,” Wakko beamed with pride. Yakko did his best to be happy as well, but, well- ha’pennies weren’t exactly as valuable as Wakko believed. Still, it could buy them a little more food, which meant Wakko didn’t have to hunt and could play with Dot like she wanted. 

“That’s good Wak. We can buy some more bread with that and have some for dinner,” Yakko said. Wakko nodded happily. 

“Look Dot! I got three- is she okay?” Wakko went to brag to his little sister, but quickly dropped his attitude. 

“Her head hurts, I’m sure it’s just because she’s hungry. She hardly ate yesterday,” Yakko stated. 

“Neither did we and we’re fine,” Wakko frowned. 

“We’re bigger than she is, it means more to her than us,” Yakko sighed and shrugged. That detail did bug him, but he had other things to focus on for the moment. He shivered as he felt the building shake as harsh winds began to mix in with the snow.

For instance, he had a fire to start.. somewhere. 

It was really hard to start fires in places that didn’t have an oven. If it hadn’t been snowing he would have tried outside. Still, he had collected rocks, sticks and had even gotten some firewood and it was cold enough to warrant using it. Even though he hated it most times, he was glad for once the floor was dirt and not wood. 

As he started pilling the wood, he felt his younger brother hovering around him curiously. Yakko chuckled at that. He had been doing that since he could walk; some things never change. 

“If you want to help start the fire, you can just say so Wak,” Yakko grinned. Wakko, not one to be embarrassed easily, beamed, and picked up the stones Yakko had gathered days before and started putting them in a circle around the fire. Yakko didn’t really know why people did that with fires, but it made them look nicer and it made a clear barrier Dot and Wakko knew not to cross.

“Eventually, they had gathered everything around. Yakko grabbed the box of matches they had, and did his best to hide his frown as he realized they only had four left. 

“Better make them count,” He thought, sighing aloud. He of course could’ve tried the old fashioned way, but those fires tended to end poorly, and usually gave the ever impulsive Wakko ideas. It was simply better to use matches. 

Finally, the fire had been lit and Yakko felt himself sigh a breath of relief mixed with tiredness. Who knew it was utterly exhausting to have to raise a five-year-old, and an eight-year-old when you were only eleven-almost-twelve. He grabbed their bag of food and handed Wakko a piece of bread and some grapes before standing up and going to Dot. 

“Hey Dot, we’re eating lunch now and-” Yakko paused when he noticed how damp her fur looked. He looked up and frowned when he saw that there wasn’t a hole above her that would’ve caused snow to fall on her. 

Then she coughed. 

It wasn’t a normal cough, it was loud, it was messy, and it was long. 

“D-dot? Are you okay?” Yakko asked, trying to hide his panic. Dot shivered and clutched the blanket around her tighter. 

Oh god- this was bad. This was really really bad. 

“Wakko, where did you put your ha’pennies?” Yakko asked, turning to him. 

“Right here- what’s wrong with Dot?” Wakko said, his ears lowered in worry. 

“We have to take her to the doctor- Now.” Yakko stated. 

“Now? Is she okay?” Wakko looked much more frightened. Yakko never took them to the doctor for anything unless he felt it was serious (like when Wakko had broken his arm hunting once). 

“Y-yak-” Dot had tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse. Yakko cringed as he picked her up. She suddenly felt a lot lighter than she had before. 

This was really really bad. 

“Don’t say anything Dot, it’s gonna be okay,” Yakko said, stroking her head softly.

However, the universe seemed to be out to prove him wrong as the door swung open and snow and fiercely bitter winds broke into the small place and immediately put the fire out. 

So much for making the most out of that match.

Yakko shook his head, he didn’t have time to focus on that, Dot was sick. Really sick. He needed to get her to a doctor asap. 

“Stay here Wak, it’ll be safer in here than out there,” Yakko said. Wakko shook his head profusely. 

“I wanna go with you. We need to stick together,” Wakko insisted. Yakko looked at him and couldn’t help but be reminded of that night five years ago...

Yakko shook his head to snap himself out of it. “Fine, but hold onto my tail. I can’t lose you in the storm,” Yakko said, and was relieved when Wakko didn’t protest. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath for strength and headed out into the storm for the doctors.

Yakko usually forbade his sibs from walking during a snow storm for very obvious reasons. One, they could get frostbite or hypothermia or just get really cold; Two, the roads were covered in ice and they could easily slip and hurt themselves; and Three, it was just generally a really bad idea. 

That didn’t stop Yakko though. He was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t hesitate to take off his own coat and wrap his little sister in it. If it weren’t for the direness of the situation, he would’ve laughed at how it engulfed her. 

He kept marching on. 

The walk was a lot longer than Yakko expected, but with the snow piling up and the weight of carrying his sister and feeling his brother’s pull on his tail, plus the lack of visibility were all making it a whole lot more difficult than it had to be. 

“Yakko! I think you walked past it!” Wakko shouted from behind to be heard over the wind. 

Walked past it? No, he wouldn’t have-

He looked above and noticed they were all the way at the bakery, three buildings over from the doctor’s office. 

“This is what you get for complaining Yakko. Keep this up and she’ll be de-”

No. He couldn’t think like that. He turned around and ran as quickly as he could to the doctors without slipping. He cursed when the stupid door was locked. Wakko tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to step aside. Yakko obeyed and Wakko began banging on the door as hard as he could. 

“Ve are closed can’t you read- Oh. The Warners. Vhat do ve have here?” The familiar doctor puzzled. Ignoring the rude implications, Yakko leaned Dot towards him and the doctor gasped and let them come in immediately. 

Thank goodness the doctor was doing well for himself still because his building was nice and toasty. Doctor Scratnsniff closed and locked the door once more after they got in. 

“Vhat is the matter vis Dot?” He asked, gesturing for Yakko to hand her over. Yakko hesitated but obliged. 

“I don’t know... I-i thought she was just tired because she was hungry but when I checked up on her later she was sweaty, a-and she had a cough. A really bad one,” Yakko said. 

“How far did you walk to come here? It vas very far, no?” He asked as he hurried off to his examination table. Yakko and Wakko followed. 

“Very far,” Wakko said. 

“And in a blizzard nonetheless. You two must really care,” Dr. Scratchnsniff said, checking her vitals. 

Yakko scoffed. Was he daft? He had known them since they had moved to Acme Falls and he was surprised they cared about her? 

“Zis is bad... zis is very bad...” The doctor muttered in hopes that the other two sibs wouldn’t hear, but Yakko heard it clear as day. 

“What’s the matter doc?” Yakko said, sticking his hands in his pant pockets nervously. 

“I’m afraid Dot is very ill-”

“Can you fix her?” Wakko interrupted. Scratchnsniff sighed. 

“I do not know. Zis illness... it comes and goes. To remove it would require surgery which is expensive and dangerous, especially around zis time of year,” He scratched the back of his bald head. 

“N-no... there... there has to be something you can do,” Yakko pleaded. 

“I’m sorry Yakko... there isn’t much I can do except recommend a diet and hope for the best. Like I said, it comes and goes,” He explained. 

“Please, we’ll do anything,” Yakko said. Scratchnsniff sighed. 

“I’ll give you a list,” He said. 

Good. At least the doctor wasn’t that daft and heartless. 

“You kiddies should stay here for the next while though, Dot needs her strength and a warm environment ja?” He said as he went to get a piece of paper. Yakko and Wakko shared a look. 

“We only have three ha’pennies...” Wakko said, looking at the ground. “Will that cover it..?” 

Yakko saw Scratchnsniff pause. 

“Guess he isn’t doing as well as I thought,” Yakko thought. 

“Zat will get you three days, ja? Zat should be enough time for her to regain her strength,” He said. Wakko smiled. 

“Thanks scratchy!” He said, hugging the doctor. 

“You’re very velcome Vakko,” He patted his head, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture but too polite to say otherwise. 

“Yeah, thanks doc,” Yakko said, keeping his distance and walking over to Dot.

“Yeah, thanks doc,” Yakko said, keeping his distance and walking over to Dot.

“Y-yakko...” Dot shivered.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay Dot,” Yakko said, trying his best not to look overwhelmed with worry.

“Wh-where- wh-when-” Dot looked around wearily.

“It’s okay Dot. We’re at the doctor's. Just get some rest, okay? You’re gonna need your strength,” Yakko said, stroking her head.

“A-am I okay?” Dot asked, looking at him wearily.

“You’ll be okay Dot. Everything is gonna be okay," He said, not really believing it, but he willed himself to look like he believed it for her. It wasn't easy, as she went into another nasty coughing fit. After that, Dot shivered and reached out for his hand wearily. He gave it to her, and she placed it under her cheek and embraced it. Yakko thought he might cry.

"It's gonna be okay, Dot. You're gonna be okay."

"You have to," he silently added.

He couldn't afford to lose her too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[marvelfansince08love]

Three’s company

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader 

Word count: God knows like 4000

Warning: NSFW 18+ lots of smut, read at your own risk. Really bad smut writing. 

Prompt 14, 30:  “If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work” “Come on now dear, Let’s not torture her any longer” - Poly 

A/N: For Vee, I love you and I hope you enjoy! I’ve scrapped this about six times and I still have a love/hate relationship with it. Also feel honoured because this is my first smut fic ever never mind Poly, please be gentle with me lmao. 😂

Thank you @lesbian-deadpool for reading over this and giving me your seal of approval, you the best sister in law ever. What would my gal do without you @missmonsters2 lol 😂x

Tags: @imnotasuperhero @j-does-life @the-enamorando-deity​ 

I do not own these gifs!🖤

Prompts 14, 30 

Have you ever been in love?

 Have you ever been in love with two people at once? Or better yet, in love with two people who are also in an established relationship.

 Because I have.

 I continue to you scribble my thoughts onto the blank page of my diary needing to express my thoughts and feelings somewhere, like a dirty little secret.

 A loud knock at my bedroom door interrupts my train of thought as I quickly close my secrets away and scramble to hide it in my desk draw. I turn around to see blonde hair and blue eyes peeking through the gap of the door.

 "Hey Y/N just letting you know movie night is starting in half an hour and I don't want another excuse as to why you can't come. You've been locked up in your room almost the entire week. We're worried." Steve asks warmly, ever the mother hen of the group.

 "I'm fine Steve I've just been busy with mission reports and making sure the new shield recruits are settling in. You know how daunting it can be, especially when Sam, Clint and Bucky think it's funny to mess with them on their first week. I promise I'll come down" I reassure him, and he almost believes me.

 "Okay I'll bite but just know I'm here if you wanna talk about it. I haven't mentioned it to them that I saw you sneaking out of their room last week" he says sympathetically.

 That's when this whole thing started. Once I became a regular member of the Avengers initiative, it meant spending a lot of time with the team. Nat and Wanda had welcomed me with open arms being the only two regular females of the group. It started off with small subtle brushes of their fingers against my hand when they walked pass or passing things to each other in the kitchen, their fingertips just lingering a little longer. Of course, every time this would happen I would be a blundering mess but they seemed unfazed by the waves of electricity between us every time, until those subtle hints turned a little more bolder.

 Three weeks ago

 Walking through the private area of the compound, I rub my tried eyes and roll my shoulders trying to ease the tension in my muscles. I shuffle towards the living room area hoping to catch up on some reading needing some peace. The open windows and the dark grey Italia corner sofa that faces it gives a lovely view of the trees and forest life that surrounds the hidden compound. In my dazed, tired state I failed to notice the fiery red head sitting lazily on the sofa a Russian novel in hand with a devilish smirk.

 "Hey Y/N how was training the newbies?"

 I gasp lightly and quickly turn around to face her, my hand hovering over my chest as I clutch my favourite book in the other.

 "Jeez Nat, you could warn a woman!"

She laughs quietly.

 "You're an avenger Myshka, your eyes should always be open to any possible thing" the words slow and clear, her voice deep laced with flirtation.

 I gulp slightly, blushing at the Russian term that I’m always referred to as but never know what it means. I drop my gaze no longer able to look into those green eyes that hold such heat.

 "Yeah well I've just spent the last five hours training dumbass's who can't tell the difference between a Fixation Bowie and a SoG Seal Knife, so give me a break" I grumbled, feeling slightly irritated suddenly.

 Maybe because she keeps flirting with you and she has a girlfriend.

 Nat frowns lightly before sitting up her legs tucked underneath her making available space on the sofa next to her, she pats the space indicating for me to sit with her. I pause for a minute debating whether that would be safe for me to do so, I scan her face and land my eyes onto her perfect full lips stained with red lipstick.

 Maybe this isn't such a good idea, I could always read in my room.

 But she looks so good sitting there and she smells divine.

 The latter thought wins as I tentatively make my way over to her and take a seat, leaving a good gap between us. Nat smiles softly before turning back to her book, making me relax a little.

 After a few minutes of us both reading in silence, I feel Nat shift slightly trying to get comfortable. Unfolding her legs from under her she slowly stretches them out over my lap and sighs content with her new position. I tense and look over to her waiting for her to say something, but her head is buried back into her book.

 It's okay, you guys are friends. This is what friends do.

 Nat shuffles around again before huffing, clearly not comfortable. I can feel her gaze on me from the corner of my eye.

 "Myshka, can I lean against you? The corner of this sofa is killing my back and you seem far too comfy" she whines lightly, pouting those cherry red lips. My eyes instantly fall to them again before quickly looking back to her eyes, a glint of knowing lingers slightly in those pretty greens.

 She caught you.

 "Oh..um yeah sure Natasha" she moves like lightening and curls up into my side, her head leaning against my shoulder, legs draped over me. My eyes widen in fear at the sudden closeness between us and the creaking sound of the floorboards by the doorway announcing another presence.

 "Well don't my two favourite girls look comfortable hmm? Mind if I join?" I continue to tense up, eyes moving back and forth between the two of them trying to gauge their reaction, but Nat seems indifferent as she continues to stay close to me still emerged in her book. Wanda makes her way around the room, I'm shocked to see that instead of sitting next to Natasha she stands closely behind us, her hands rest on either side of my shoulders, her thumbs move back and forth along my exposed shoulders as she leans in and whispers "you seem tense fényem (my light), you need to relax. Is Steve giving you a hard time with the new recruits? I'll have a word" her breath softly brushing against my sensitive skin making me shiver.

 I shake my head unable to find the words to speak. Wanda hums quietly before releasing her hold on me and moving towards Natasha before letting her lips meet hers in a heated kiss. I try to avert my eyes but it's too late, Nat looks straight at me and winks subtly before going back to her book as Wanda walks away asking if we would like a drink. I shake my head in decline before making up an excuse and sprinting out of there.

 Whatever game their playing, I don't want any part of it...

 Or maybe I do.

 End of flashback

 A week later the flirting and teasing had gotten more bolder as the days passed. I found myself being left alone with one of them or both way too often for it to be a convenience. At the end of that week, it was team bonding night in the games room, drinks were poured and before I had time to blink, I could feel soft warm skin against my lips while two pairs of red lips and hands trail along my naked back and shoulders, limbs tangled up in silk sheets.

 I woke up in a haze just as the sun met the earth in the distant horizon and vanished out of their room. Leaving an empty gap between them, making my heart shatter. The knocking on my door and the empty threats to come into my room if I didn't speak to them became less and less as the week went on, as if giving up on any attempts to see me.

 I'm shaken out of my thoughts by two large gentle hands cupping my shoulders; Steve stares at me with concern.

 "Come on let's just go down and get the food ready for the movie, okay? You can sit with me if you like, you don't have to talk to them" I nod my head in agreement to his proposition.

 "Is there any specific snacks you would like?"

 I smirk at that slightly before replying:

 "Do we have the big bag of Doritos, Dorito?" Steve rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.

 "Can you and Tony stop it with the Dorito thing? it was one commercial and the money went to a good cause" he moans grumpily before leaving the room and heading back towards the kitchen for the movie night snacks.

 I chuckle softly before gathering my thoughts.

 Maybe I could make another excuse up for not going.

 Knowing I don’t stand a chance against a stubborn Super Soldier I make my way out off my safe space and into the unknown.

  Upon arriving in the dimly lit room I scan for a vacant double seat to settle into for the evening, my eyes fall upon the very two people who have been taken over my thoughts and the pages in my diary for last two months; Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff.

 Wanda sits comfortably on Natasha's lap her head tilted upward as Nat whispers softly to her while brushing her thumb over Wanda's bare calf making her giggle quietly.

 My thoughts overtake me as I think about her thumb brushing against my bare thigh while Wanda whispers sweet nothings into my ear, just like that night...

 As if sensing my presence, they both turn and face me, a soft smile playing on both of their lips.

 "Hey kotenok, where have you been all week? We've missed you" Nat speaks quietly laced with worry. Wanda's furrowed brow also indicating her agreement.

 I blush slightly and clear my dry throat suddenly aware of my daydreaming.

 "Sorry...I.. um I had a few mission reports that needed finishing and didn't realise the time. I could do without Steve chewing my ass about neglecting my responsibilities outside of missions" I say impersonating my best Steve Rogers voice, which causing Nat to smirk slightly; amusement in her eyes while Wanda giggles her eyes looking over my shoulder.

 "You know Y/N if you actually did do the reports on time, I wouldn't have to keep lecturing you" a deep authority voice says behind me while dangling a bag of Doritos in front of my face. I roll my eyes in good nature before grabbing the offered snack and moving to sit in the empty loveseat by the two women.

 "You know there is space on this love machi- I mean love-seat Y/N, all you gotta do is ask" Sam teases a few rows down and winking cheekily, a pillow hits him around the back of the head by Bucky who's sat beside him.

 "Please she's way out of your league, fake bird" they both continue to bicker back and forth as I settle onto my own love-seat, wrapping the blanket around me and sighing at the warm feeling surrounding me as I sink into it further.

 "Sam's right though Y/N, you don't have to sit by yourself. Come sit with me and Nat there's plenty of room here" Wanda whispers leaning over towards me so no one else can hear, her eyes filled with attentiveness. I gulp and avert my eyes away from her emerald gaze as I pull slightly at the blanket as if trying to form a protective barrier around myself, away from her gaze and the heat behind them.

 "Oh um I'm okay I'll stay here. Thank you though" I stutter over my words while trying to build up enough courage to look into her eyes, to show her I'm not affected by the idea of being so close to them both.

 "Oh okay.. well if you do get a bit lonely over here, just know the offer is there Myshka" her eyes filled with slight disappointment but doesn't push the offer further and settles back into Natasha. I feel Nat's heated gaze upon me as I try and stay focused on the starting credits of Clint's choice of film.

 Halfway through the movie, I can feel my eyelids growing heavy and my vision blurring. Unable to fight the dreamworld any longer I slowly let myself fall into a deep slumber.

 "She's so cute when she sleeps, so peaceful"

 "Can you imagine how good she would be for us Wanda, how amazing all three of us could be?"

 "Nat! This isn't the time; you know the last time we did that with her she pushed us away. Why won't she just talk to us? If she had just stuck around long enou-"

 The voices in the room suddenly stop as I feel myself awakening from my deep slumber, I tense slightly suddenly aware that I'm not alone in the room and not in the comfort of the cinema loveseat but in a soft bed that smells just like...

 "Hey sleepyhead, look who's finally decided to join the land of the living" Nat murmurs while brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face and behind my ear, I shiver slightly at her touch before scurrying into an upright position, aware that I'm currently not in my own bedroom but in theirs.

 "How long was I sleeping for?"

 "Only about two hours, we thought it would be best to bring you in here since we need to talk"

I gulp slightly at that.

 "Um.. to talk? Could we do this another time? I'm pretty beat from all that writing and working with the recruits, I just want my bed" I try to reason with them but they both fix me with a "don't even try it" look before sitting on either side of me. Wanda grabs hold of my hand and turns my palm upward, she traces her finger around my palm and slowly lifts her eyes to look at me.

 "Please Y/N, talk to us. We've been trying to see you all week, but you seem to be avoiding us and Nat doesn't take to well to being ignored" she smirks mischievously at mentioning her girlfriend, who seems to be remaining quiet throughout the exchange.

 I look over towards Nat only now taking in how quiet she's been throughout this whole exchange even in the cinema room she spoke less to me than ever before. Her eyes drop down, looking at the silk sheet as her hand brushes softly against along it, her head tilted slightly as if reminiscing.

 "We may have gone about it the wrong way myshka, but we care about you.. a lot actually and more than just friends. We can't stop thinking about you but avoiding us after leaving like that... if this is your attempt at pushing us away, it won't work. We...I felt it that night, the way you clung to me as I brought you close to the edge, the softness in your eyes when Wanda held you close afterwards... tell me you don't feel the same way"

  I sit gaping at her, lost for words. I feel Wanda's hand squeeze mine gently, comforting me and encouraging me to respond. She leans forward and brushing my hair behind me ear before cupping my face with her hand, her thumb brushing away at the absent small tear on my cheek.

 "Shhh lyubov moya, we know, or did you forget that I can read minds" she teases gently trying to ease the tension. She brings her lips to the side of my head and lets them brush gently against my temple before trailing them down to my cheek, leaving small trails of soft kisses. Her lips reach near my mouth before pulling away slightly:

 "If you don't want this Y/N we completely understand, just say the words and we'll leave you alone and let you move on-" before she could finish, I lean forward and capture her lips with mine.

 "I want this, I've wanted this for a while" before continuing to peck her lips repeatedly. I see Nat from the corner of my eye stand quietly before moving to sit in the armchair opposite the bed watching intently as Wanda pushes me gently so I'm lying flat on my back.

 She continues to straddle my waist and slowly unbuttoned my shirt before pulling it apart exposing my bare chest, the cool air hitting my breast making them harden instantly. Wanda hums in delight at the sight, her eyes darkening with a glint of red spiralling underneath her natural colour. She leans her head down towards my neck letting her nose brush lightly down the valley on my breasts barely touching my skin, her eyes lock with mine before looking over her shoulder at Nat who is now undressed from the waist down with the smallest pair of white panties on that barely cover her assets; a dark wet spot appearing indicating to her arousal, as she keeps her legs spread for us to see her hand trails slowly south towards her heat.

 "Mmm someone seems to be enjoying our performance, little one. Shall we give her more?" Her hands grip my shorts before pulling them down and letting them drop to the floor before leaving wet kisses from my ankle to inner thigh, tongue swirling and nibbling softly right near my core. I shiver and arch my back basking in the overwhelming feeling of her. She continues to tease me, brushing her nose against my panties before pulling away. I hear the floorboards creak quietly making Nat's movements known, I watch her as she stalks over towards us like a predator after its prey. She squats down so she's eye level with me her fingers grip my chin, making me turn my head to the side: facing her.

 "Such a pretty little thing, it would be a shame to put those luscious lips to waste, don't you agree Wanda?" She mocks, her question for the woman between my legs but her eyes stay locked with mine, darker with a glint of mischief.

 She moves forward and presses her lips to mine, trailing her tongue along my bottom lip making me gasp. Her tongue battles with my own before I take a hold of her bottom lip between my teeth and tug at it making her moan deep. I shiver slightly and turn my eyes downward towards Wanda who now has my panties in between her teeth as she drags them down slowly almost agonisingly slow her eyes locking with mine. Nat's attention now on my neck sucking gently.

 "Oh god"

 As soon as she's disposed of my panties her mouth is on me instantly, lapping her tongue over and over again, swirling around my folds before taking my clit into her mouth and sucking hard, making me moan out load.

 "She's so wet for us Nat, god I almost forgot how good she tasted"

 Nat chuckles softly before removing her panties giving me a great view of her pussy. I lick my lips in anticipation, excited at the thought of having Nat above me with my tongue inside of her. She smirks knowingly before slowly removing her tank top, showing her full breasts and climbing expertly above me so she's facing Wanda her pussy directly in view, dripping wet. I tilt my chin up trying to take a taste, but she hovers higher up away from me making me whine. I'm stopped from reaching any further by Wanda's hand grasping my breast her fingers twisting my nipple slightly as her tongue enters me, making me cry out.

 My cries are quickly stop by Nat, who lowers herself enough to let me taste her. I moan at how wet she is...how wet she is for us. The room is filled with low moans and desperate cries of passion as I continue to swirl my tongue around her entrance, Wanda brings her thumb up to my clit and rubs hard circles around the sensitive area making me pull away from Nat slightly, hips bucking wanting more of her.

 "Please Wanda, I need you inside me" I say desperately. She chuckles quietly before leaving my heated area and making her way up to my chest taking a nipple into her mouth and releasing it with a soft pop.

 “Come on now, dear. Let’s not torture her any longer” Nat teases from above me her voice breathless.

 "I got something much more pleasurable" she smiles wickedly, I watch in astonishment as her eyes turn a blood red but before I could question, I feel a strong wave of pleasure hit my core, Nat and I moaning out in unison.

 "Y/N if you don't put that fucking tongue back where it belongs, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week" Nat grumbles through her moans caused by Wanda's magic. I quickly tilt my chin up and plunge my tongue deep into her entrance. My hand desperately reaching for Wanda's pulling her closer. The waves of sensation hitting one after the other, faint sparks of red surrounds us. I feel Nat tense above me, bringing my hand up I gently rub at her clit, bringing her close to orgasm. She cries out before relaxing above me; I lap her up, taking every last drop of her orgasm.

 "Wanda you still have too many clothes on" I whine trying to blindly remove her clothes. I feel Nat move from above me and towards Wanda while she continues to tease up and down my body.

 "Y/N is right malen'kaya ved'ma (little witch), you are wearing far too many clothes" she says before gliding Wanda's long skirt and panties over her ass and dropping them in a heap on the floor, while she continues to kneel between my legs. I feel Wanda's hot breath hit my core as she gasps at the cool air hitting her warm skin. Her eyes glow a brighter red as Nat traces her finger up and down her folds before finding her entrance and quickening her pace, she leans her body over Wanda, so her lips are close to her ear as they both stare at me.

 "Hasn't she been good for us Wanda? I think she deserves an award" Nat whispers voice laced with lust slightly breathless.

 That familiar wave of electricity hits through my body to my core making me gasp as Wanda projects her pleasure to me. Being able to be in sync with her body and its reactions to pleasure, mixed with my own need for release, throws me over the edge as I feel the knot in my core relax making me slump against the pillow, Wanda not far behind. She collapses gently on top of me, her head resting against my chest listening to my rapid heartbeat start to slow. Nat moves around the side of the bed grabbing a throw over from the back of the armchair and covering us all up before curling into my side, kissing the top of Wanda's head and my cheek.

 "Does this mean you'll consider being with us Y/N, not just the sex but everything else that comes with it" Nat asks almost tentatively, scared of what I might say.

 "You guys had me the moment I laid eyes on you"

[myfandomlife-blog]

Forever: Part 6

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Warnings: blood, injury

Part 5

At your request Tony gathered the other Avengers in the lab that he and Bruce were using so you could tell them about your life before earth. You told them about your life in Asgard, your parents and how you grew up with Thor and Loki.

„And because Odin thought it was destiny that Thor and I shared the same birthday and similar powers, he had the idea that it was predetermined that we would marry and reign over Asgard together. But...“ You hesitated, unsure if you could speak it out loud.

„But you had fallen in love with Loki.“ Natasha finished your sentence and you nodded.

„That’s awful y/n.“ Bruce said sympathetic.

Natasha walked over to you and laid a hand on your shoulder.

„Yeah i wouldn’t want to marry thunder Barbie either.“ Tony said and you had no other choice as to laugh about his attempt to cheer you up.

„But he’s so different now.“ You said. „Loki. That’s not the men that I knew. It almost feels like something is clouding his mind.“ You looked at the scepter which was lying on the table. “What is that?” You asked while your hand hovered inches above the scepter.

“That’s his weapon. Loki used it when we capture him in Germany.” Bruce stepped next to you. “We’re trying to find out what it is. Do you know something?” He said.

“No I’ve never seen this before. He must have gotten it after I went to earth.” You said.

“It doesn’t matter what it is. We need to decide what’s going to happen to it.” Tony said. “I don’t think we should hand it over to shield.”

“Oh and you think you’re more trustworthy than them? That someone like you should decide what to do with it?” Steve said provoking.

“None of you little humans can handle a weapon like this. Y/n and I will take it back to Asgard together with Loki.” Thor said while pointing to you.

“What did you just say? I’m not going back to Asgard. You can´t decided that for me!” You said angry.

“But that’s your home. Your far to powerful to waste your abilities here on Midgard.”

“I decided for what i ‘waste’ my abilities. Not you and surely not Odin! You two have told me what to do for far to long.” Anger laced voice and you didn’t now where it suddenly came from.

A hand appeared on your shoulder and you snapped around to see it was Bruce. “Y/N please let go of the scepter.” He said calm.

“What i don’t...” You looked at your hand and there it was. You couldn’t even remember taking it. You put it back on the table fast and took a few steps away from it. “That was scary. I felt so much anger.” You turned to Thor. “I’m sorry for what i said but I´m not going back. It just doesn´t feel like home anymore”

“It’s okay little one.” He laid an arm over your shoulder and smiled softly. “We don´t have to talk about it now.��

„I think we all got a little hot headed.“ Steve said.

“Maybe we should all get some distance between us and this weird thing.” Tony said while pointing at the scepter. “I think it’s affecting our anger and someone in here really shouldn’t get angry.”

Bruce threw him an annoyed look.

When the alarm went of you know that it was Loki’s doing. So Thor and you had run straight to his cell and as you arrived you saw that the door was wide open and Loki was standing in the entrance. Or so it looked but Thor had already started to run towards the cell.

„Wait!“ You shouted but it was to late.

It wasn’t Loki but one of his illusions. Thor hadn’t noticed because he had run right into Loki`s trap and was now locked inside the glass prison.

„Oh y/n you were always so much better in seeing trough my illusions than Thor. I could never fool you.“ He turned around to you with a scornful grin that made your stomach twist.

„I don’t know what’s gotten into you but you really need to stop this! I don’t even recognize you anymore!“ You said angry.

„Did it ever occurred to you that maybe this is who I really am? That maybe my true self emerged after you left?“ He said cynical while his hand hoovered above the switch for the glass cell.

„I’m no fool Loki! I knew you your whole life and that’s not your true self! Believe me!“

He didn’t answer just looked behind you and lifted his hands in surrender.

You turned around and there was Coulson standing with a giant gun pointed at Loki.

„What are you doing?“ You said.

„Well I’ve always wanted to know what this thing can do.“ He said grinning.

When you felt the change in the air it was to late. Loki had used the moment you were distracted and appeared behind Coulson while the gun was now pointed at an illusion.

You knew what was going to happen and you prayed that you would be fast enough to save him. As careful as you could you threw yourself against Phil to knock him out of the way but he still crushed pretty hard against the wall. But at least he probably would survive. You on the other hand felt the sharp end of Loki’s scepter piercing through your stomach and as you looked up into his eyes you saw that they were wide open in shock. He threw the scepter away and caught you before you hit the ground.

“You foolish woman! What did you do?”

He whispered while his eyes became wet.

That reaction made you smile even when your sight became dark and you lost consciousness. Maybe he wasn’t lost after all.

Your body felt awfully heavy when you woke up. There was a steady peeping noise next to you and as the haziness vanished from your sight you saw that you were laying on a bed. The memory flashed back into your mind and as you shot up your whole body burned painfully.

“Hey wait you can’t get up! You need to rest.” It was Maria who was next to you in an instant.

“Where am I?” You asked.

“Your still on the helicarrier.” She said while pushing you back down.

“Where is he? Where is Loki?” You asked and her face became serious.

“He is in New York. They’re all in New York. But you can’t get up now. You’re lucky to still be alive.” She tried to hold you down but you were stronger.

“I can’t stay here Maria! I need to go and help them...please.” You said begging.

She stopped and sighted. “Fine. I can’t hold you anyway.” You nodded thankfully and just as you wanted to ask for fast way to the city, you heard a voice.

“You can’t just get down to landing dock 2, take the Quinjet that is not guarded right now and fly to New York on your own.” Someone said from the door. You turned your head to him and grinned.

“Well Nick, than it’s a lucky coincidence that nobody told me about it.”

You jumped of the bed and as a reward you tumbled for a moment as the pain flashed trough your body.

“I’m okay.” You said to Maria who was just trying to catch you. “I’m not a human. I can stand a little injury.” You grinned at her and she gave you a weak smile.

“Please be careful.”

“I always am.”

It hadn´t took to much effort to find Loki in Tony´s new tower. It was the only place that was interesting enough for him. You walked into the room that opened up to the terrace. Loki was facing the city but you knew that he had noticed your arrival. 

“I knew that you would be strong enough to survive that injury.” He said without turning around.

“Oh you knew.” You said sarcastic. “Well then i was lucky that you´re so superior. I could have sworn that you were concerned for a second.”

He twisted around and within seconds his face was inches from yours. For a second you had lost your focus and there was this little familiar tingle in your stomach but it faded as soon as his malicious grin was back. 

“Oh don´t flatter yourself y/n. You´re as arrogant as my brother.” He backed off a bit so he could look down on you. “You should just take him into your bed and hide together in Asgard...”

His head had tilted a little from the force of your slap and his eyes widened in shock. Your palm was burning and tears where stinging in your eyes. For a second you thought that this had made his head clear again but then his face was pure anger.

Before his dagger could hit you, you had rolled out of his reach.  

“I really hoped that there was anything left in you worth saving but it seems I was wrong.” You said calm as you stood up and spread your arms. “Well then, just do it. Kill me and I will never bother you again. Because if you don´t, there won´t be a single waking minute in your life that I won´t try to bring you down.”

He watched you carefully for a moment as if he was deciding what was the better option for him and then he was behind you and the dagger in his hand was hovering over your heart. 

“Don´t tempt me.” He said in a whisper. “You have no idea how little I care about you.”

You turned around and in one motion you grabbed the dagger over his hand and brought the tip of the blade onto your skin.

“Well I think I know exactly how much you care about me.” You held his gaze while you pushed the dagger down a little so it drew blood from your skin. His gaze flickered to the knife and back to your eyes and in this moment you could see a glimmer of blue flashing over his eyes. His gaze widened in realization and in a swift move he threw the dagger across the room.

“What are you doing?” He asked breathless as he was fighting with himself. “Just leave me and go.”

“No! Why should I leave you when you need me?”

“I don´t need anyone.” 

“Yes you do! And I need you because I love you!”

His gaze snapped back to you and he shook his head slowly. “How can you after all that I´ve done. After all the things I´ve done to you?” He was on his knees and had never seemed weaker as in this moment. You kneelt before him and took his head into your hands. 

“Because I couldn´t save my parents but I won´t fail to save you.”

...

@generationallyfluid 

@snix1112

@evanicoya

@loser-alert

@orighami

@laic2299

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Eight, "The In Between"

Word Count: 6.1k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (click to listen)

P.S. - Next chapter will be coming on March 23rd, but I only know this because I've written it already :P Otherwise, I know that they are pretty random which I'm sorry for. Thanks for reading!

"People live with things they don't talk about hidden in their heart."

- Un-Go アンゴ

There, I stop, because I realize what I’ve done. I hear it in my words and in her weeping, the step that I shouldn’t have taken. Without knowing, I spoke in present tense, and knew that I’d only made it worse. It reminded us of what we couldn’t have- what we wouldn’t have. What should’ve been. Should be.

Her head shook from side to side, although belatedly. Her cries had quieted at moments too, that is until her head dove back against my chest, and they returned. I held her there, pressing my lips to her head and closing my eyes, being sucked back into my thoughts. The should’ve-beens made a regretful comeback, and as each one paid a reminder to me, so did a tear down each cheek.

Two Weeks Earlier

Despite the sunshine pouring in through the window, the sight of the glittering snow outside my window chilled me to the bone. Wrapping my arms around myself didn’t help as the cold seeped in through my cardigan.

“Cold, again?” somebody chuckles from over my shoulder.

“Yeah. God, can you turn up the heat in this place, or what?”

“I dunno, you’ve already had me turn it up three degrees t’day. Not sure my Dad brain will allow me anymo.’ Yer gonna make me heatin’ bill skyrocket here soon.”

“Harry,” I giggle, looking behind me to catch his face just in time for him to surprise me with a hug from behind. “Come on, the baby and I are cold. You better soon, or else I’m buying a space heater for my office.”

“Yer gonna be usin’ that kid as an excuse fer ev’rythin.’ Arentcha, Becks?” a shiver runs down my spine at the feeling of his beard against my temple, but it doesn’t compare to his freezing hands on my stomach.

“Yes, because are you trying to make me turn into an icicle with those hands of yours?”

“What, I jus’ got back from lunch. ‘s winter outside, don’t y’know?”

“Wow, I had no idea,” I reply snarkily with a nod to my window before us.

“Watch it, sassy pants, or ‘ll keep those churros fer myself.”

The scoff is already curling my lips when I turn around, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would,” Harry contests, raising a brow at me until it all dissolves into his wheezy laughter. “Hey, put that pout away, sweetheart.”

“Don’t try to butter me up, mister,” I mutter, turning away from his waiting arms. His tongue clicks in response but I ignore it, starting for my phone that rings.

“Becks, I was only kiddin.’ Y’know I wouldn’t take away yer churros, love, they’re yer favourite,” he begins, but for some reason that really annoyed me. It doesn’t help when he takes hold of my hand, rooting me to the spot. “Hey, Crabby Pants, yer phone can wait. They can leave a message, but I wanna talk t’ my fiance.”

“What?” I mumble, facing him at last. The corners of his lips lift, and his contagious happiness is hard to resist.

“‘m sorry fer teasin’ you. ‘ll see ‘bout turnin’ tha heat up on this side, and yer churros are waitin’ in me office. ‘d never deprive my baby’s mum o’ her favourite food. No, not my wifey.”

“You better not,” I sigh, giggling against his lips when they press to mine. The gold flecks in his sage-colored irises catch the light when he looks down at me. Sometimes, I still wonder how the sunshine on his face could all be for me.

“I won’t,” Harry hums, reminding me of his own little ray of sunshine when his hand comes to my belly. “Ya should be careful with those churros, I think yer startin’ t’ show.”

“Am not.”

“Are to. Ya had a li’l bump this mornin’ when we were gettin’ ready. I saw it in tha mirror in tha bathroom when you were changin.’ Cutest thing I ever did see,” he coos, painting my face in thick strokes with that radiant smile of his. “Boobs are gettin’ bigger and bum too. ‘m likin’ this whole pregnant thing on you mo’ and mo’ ev’ry day.”

“Of course, you are,” I whisper, feeling the smile drain from my lips when the light catches it. The doctor said they’d fade with time, but three months on and the pink lines still won’t let me forget that nightmare I can’t escape. I saw them every day, in the shower with him or when I watched him get dressed beside me in the bathroom. The mornings when I woke up before him and dragged a finger across his tattoos. He was lucky that none of them were ruined by the numerous stitches, but they got by unscathed. I just wish I could say the same for everything else, for me.

“Hey, where’d that pretty smile go?” Blinking, I focus my gaze back on the dimples that fall into his cheeks.

“Your scars, they’re still . . ,” my train of thought disappears, because it’s nothing that I haven’t said before.

“Still there. I know, they jus’ don’t go away, buggie.” Frowning, his words sink in, but for maybe the fifth time. With a huff, I distract myself with the cream tie dotted with blush flowers that he picked out today. “Hey you, dontchu roll those pretty eyes at me.”

“I’m not.”

“But you are. ‘s it ‘cos somebody hasn’t had her churros yet this week?” his whiny voice grazes my ears from above. It’s difficult, but I control my lips and busy myself with picking a loose thread from his tie. “Becks, I see that smile,” he continues in a mocking tone, and soon I’m giggling against his neck as his nose drags along mine.

“‘Kay, baby, ‘m gonna go and grab yer lunch befo’ my meetin’.”

I whisper a ‘thanks’ against his lips before watching him disappear into the hallway. It’s not often, but my office is quiet, absent of the constant sounds of keys clicking, phones ringing, and a certain somebody being quite good at distracting me. Crossing the room, I plop down in front of my computer. The new messages showing on the side jump at my attention, but what grabs it is the picture frame beside it. With a smile that makes my cheeks ache, I pick it up to admire for the tenth time today. I’m sure that I’ll hit one hundred here, sooner or later.

“Think I like yer frame better, y’know.”

“Really?” I respond, lifting my eyes to Harry who sets down a greasy taco bag on my desk, a protein shake on the side. Don’t even get me started on how he’s already the nagging Dad.

“Ya, like the color and phrase better,” he notes, making me squirm from his hand on my side. It’s forgotten when it travels over to my belly, the exact place I hadn’t realized I’d laid a hand on too. “Can hardly believe it’ll be four months in two and a half weeks. We’re almost halfway there.”

“I know, it’s crazy to me.”

His mumbled agreement comes as I trace the lines of our baby’s profile over the frame’s glass partition. The same frame had sat on my desk for a while now, often updated with the newest sonogram picture after our latest ultrasound. One similar to it sat on Harry’s desk too, both a present from him. Several more occupied our fridge, phone lockscreens at times, and I’m sure in similar forms at both of our parents’ houses.

“Me too. I can’t wait tho,’ t’ be a dad.”

I didn’t think that my smile could get any bigger, but when I tip my head up to look at Harry hovering there, somehow it does.

“You’re going to be the best daddy.”

Sunshine fills every inch of his face, especially in the dimples caved into his cheeks. I hope our baby has those. Please.

“Why thank you. I feel rather lucky my kids get t’ have such a wonderful mummy too,” he notes with a quick wink, sponging a kiss to my forehead warmly. A few moments pass of admiring the picture until his voice interrupts my thoughts again. “Yer sure ‘s okay ‘m helpin’ My’ with that case in Bedford comin’ up?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Won’t miss me too much, will you?”

Now, I don’t even bother to hide the way that I roll my eyes at him, accompanied by a sound of disgust. His nose wrinkles before his face creases in annoyance.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I almost retort with a joking tone, until I melt at the way he rubs his nose against mine in what some call a kiss. “We’ve been over this, Harry, it’s fine. Skye can stay the night with me if I get lonely, or something. I know an opportunity to have another win against your arch enemy can’t be passed up.”

This time, I really stumped him. It brings a song to my lips, because it’s not often that I get to surprise him anymore. Sometimes, I miss those days, but I’d never go back to them. No, we didn’t have the sweet honeymoon period of first meeting, it was the total opposite. I’d never give up where we’d finally gotten to now, engaged and expecting a baby in a little over five months.

“He ‘s not.”

Still, the crease between his eyebrows remains and I only want to laugh more, “Is too. Malakai Watters is your arch enemy, Harry. You’ve been griping about him since I first met you, no excuse about it is going to work on me.”

Shaking his head, I already hear the argument coming my way, “Watters ‘sn’t my enemy, you silly one, he never has been. ‘ve never had any enemies.”

“Lies and more lies. I’m pretty sure we were enemies once, but you’ll excuse that one too.”

“Eh, I think I can agree with that one,” his face has relaxed and so has his shoulders that rise and fall softly. The green in his eyes lights up when he cracks a laugh from above, despite still being upside down for me. At last, he spins me around and pins me with his hands planted on my armrests. He always has to hog those, at movies and in the car. “Enemies? I dunno ‘bout that word, but you drove me bloody mad in the beginnin,’ so much so ‘s a wonder ‘m marryin’ you now. Wouldn’t have believed anybody if they’d told me back then you’d become my bride. Snotty li’l Holte, me personal assistant.”

“Harry!” comes my exclamation, and like always, followed by his innocent giggle. Innocent, my ass.

“Hey, you were jus’ as guilty, Becks, don’t go denyin’ it. You did everythin’ in the fuckin’ book t’ push me buttons.”

I’m laughing before him and unsure of how to stop until grabbing hold of his neck to press my lips to his. His laugh buzzes against my mouth, cinnamon sugar sticking to his lips. That little churro thief. The gold in his eyes is sparkling when we separate, my cheeks aching once more.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” my question comes in a mumbled sigh, eyes darting between his reddening cheeks and glistening eyes. Wait, what? “Harry, why are you crying?”

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am t’ have you tho’?” Giggling for a reason I don’t know why, I lose myself in those neverending greens for the hundredth time.

“Perhaps, but another time wouldn’t hurt my ego.”

A wry titter escapes his lips for just a second when the first tear glides down his cheek. One that I immediately catch with the pad of my thumb.

“No, I mean it. We fought like cats and dogs when we first met, and we hated each other,” he goes on in a voice leaking of that molasses once more. Mine begin to part until his terse shaking head tells me ‘no.’ “Hush you, don’t you lie either. I know we hated each other’s guts nearly, but outta nowhere, you became my best friend. A few hundred hiccups between then and now, and look at us, gettin’ hitched and havin’ a baby.”

“Yeah,” is all that I can come up with. More like the only words I can shove past my lips. Ones that already tremble from the emotion spilled from his sunshine eyes. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Reckon I have you t’ thank that fer, and loads mo,’” he corrects with wrinkled brows and a rub to my belly. Memories swim behind my eyelids as I kiss him back, hoping that if this is a dream after all, that I never have to wake up.

/

I wasn’t sure where I was anymore. No, this place I had never seen before with my two eyes, visited in my dreams, or travelled to in a book. Looking around me for some clue as to where I was, all I could see was golden trees, robin blue cloudless skies, and sunlight pouring in from every corner. It shined on my face and filled me with a warmth, one that I felt underneath my bare feet. When I peered down, my hands habitually went to my stomach but I found that it was completely flat once more.

A question filled my head instantly at the discovery, one that joined the many others of where I was, and everything that was around me. It all fell away instantly when something else took place inside of my head. I could never describe it to anybody or put my finger on it, but that feeling of mine told me that I wasn’t alone. Still with my hands on my stomach, I looked back up and found a young girl walking towards me. Sunlight shone down on her, following her as she walked through the kneehigh grass dotted with flowers. For a reason I couldn’t name, I didn’t want to look away from her in case she disappeared, but my attention was drawn to the beautiful field we were suddenly in. Wild flowers tickled my legs, reaching up to the lilac dress that fell to my knees and hugged the curve of my shoulders.

At the sound of rustling nearby, I glanced upwards once more to find her stopping a few feet away from me. There it was still, that feeling of mine, and as I stood there looking at her beaming up at me, I felt the way it filled my insides. There was something about her that I couldn’t figure out, but I feel like I should know who she is. I tried as I looked into her olive green eyes that sparkled with the secret she knew and I didn’t. A divot fell into one of her freckled cheeks as they rounded from her spreading lips. It sat there on the tip of my tongue as my feet led me forward, as if she was calling me to her. I didn’t know why or how I could, but I felt as if I knew her. This is what brought my hand forth to cradle her cheek, and thumb at the dark ringlets tickling her heart-shaped face.

She couldn’t be more than seven, a few years older than Harper. The second the thought appeared inside of my head, I wanted to shake it, knowing it couldn’t be. But as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around me, I felt the wetness descend onto my cheeks as she surrounded me with her sunshine like warmth. It felt as if I was hugging my younger self, because she was a spitting image of what I looked like, save for those green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my dress where she nuzzled her head into my chest.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked in return, rubbing circles into her shoulder where the sleeves of her green dress ended, the same shade as her eyes. She didn’t offer an answer, only squeezed me tight before pulling away to look at me with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?” the words spilled out when a tear raced down her cheek, her smile disappearing.

Again, she didn’t answer me, only hastily encircling me once again with her arms. Once more, questions danced around in my head, chasing answers that wouldn’t come, subconsciously or from this little girl. Somehow, I knew her and felt close to her, but I didn’t know how or why. She was beautiful and so sweet, I already knew but I wasn’t sure how.

An ache filled my chest when the next words left her lips, ones that I couldn’t begin to understand. “I’ll miss you.”

Instead of uttering another question that would go unanswered, I held onto her tighter, trying to make out what she had called me at the end there. It was a name, but not one I could remember now. The songs of birds flying overhead surrounded us, as did the trickling of a nearby stream, and a hummed song that I knew from somewhere. One he would always sing to me, but for some reason, I couldn’t recall who he was now.

“Who are-,” my long awaited question came, but it was torn away when I looked down to find my arms empty. In a confused blink, the grassy field decorated with flowers and sunshine was gone.

At my feet, sat cold tiling and the birds were no more. So was the sunshine and warmth. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around me, feeling very cold all of a sudden. Belatedly, I looked up and at my surroundings, wondering where I was now. A dimmed, empty room stared back at me, quiet from the sounds of the world until one broke through the silence.

A cry pierced my ears, and made me spin around. A door stood across the room to my right, where the sound came from. Without knowing what I was doing, my bare feet padded across the chilly floor, and I twisted the handle. Another room awaited me, but this one wasn’t empty. Nor was I alone.

Rows upon rows of hospital cribs stared back at me, little bundles of blankets sat in each one. Babies. They all were quiet except for one. My feet led me in that direction without me knowing it, because there it was again. My feeling. It guided me towards the sound, one that grabbed hold onto something deep inside of me. I knew what it was and what I heard, it was clear as day.

A smile shot up into my cheeks when I stopped at the cradle that held a squirming, crying baby. Its pink face was pinched from wailing, a blush colored hat covering its head as a striped blanket hid its body. But as I reached out to pick them up, I blinked and they were gone. Stepping back, I stumbled and righted myself. Where did they go?

Where’s my baby?

Tears clung to my eyelashes, blurring my vision as I stared at the empty crib. A divot in the miniature mattress stared back at me, and so did something else. My bottom lip wobbled as a briny tear ran over it, but it came to shake harder when I read the name card stuck to the inside of the rolling crib.

Annie S.

Before me, my hand trembled as I reached into the crib, feeling the corner of the card before-

“Becks, lovebug,” a voice murmurs, and the image is ripped away from me. With a jolt, I feel the warmth of a hand on my shoulder, rubbing a line down my back. I’m glad to have been woken up by him and torn away from that nightmare, but at the same time, I’m not. I wanted answers. “It’s time to get up and have a shower, my love. It’s six-thirty, you have to wake up soon so we can go to work.”

Gulping, nothing will go down as a ball sits in my throat. Peeling my eyes open, Harry and I’s familiar bedroom materializes before me. With a ragged breath that races to fill my lungs, a wetness paints my cheeks.

“You can sleep for a little longer, bug, but I’m going to hop in the shower, if you want to join me,” his whisper comes against my temple. Hastily, I turn to bury my face into the pillow, hiding my wet eyes. “Okay then, but you have to be up in half an hour,” Harry finishes, pressing his warm lips to the top of my head.

As I listen to the sound of his parting footsteps, I grasp onto the covers tightly. Only when I hear the spray of the shower and him close the door behind him, do I let loose my sobs into the pillow. I lie there, wondering, why the tears and what is that dream supposed to mean? I’d had weird pregnancy dreams before, vivid ones even, but nothing like that. No, never.

Who was that little girl, and how did I know her? And where had my baby gone, I think to myself as I rub at my belly, worrying away.

/

“Ree, what do you mean you’re not getting married?”

Rolling my eyes could not begin to convey the thoughts racing through my head, born out of her exclamation.

“Of course, I’m getting married, Skye. What, are you daft? That’s not

what I’ve said at all, if you’d been listening,” I tut with an unruly shake of my head, snapping the cap back onto the honey bottle. “You asked when the wedding was, and all I’ve said is that Harry and I don’t know with everything that’s changed. We had a date for August but cancelled it after we found out about the baby.”

The sofa sighs when I plop onto it, leaving my steaming mug on the table. My best friend of over twenty years tsks beside me, biting off the side of a cookie. Her faux disappointment is all but lost on her when her eyes brighten, cookie crumbs soon falling from her hands.

“Speaking of, let’s see that bump. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” she nearly squeals, reaching forward to lift my shirt.

“Goodness, Skye, assault me much? All you’ve got to do is ask, don’t need to be undressing me now,” my response comes in a giggle, one that soon falls away when her hands fly to her mouth. My lips soon slide into a smirk that I find hard to control at the sight of her, after lifting my shirt the rest of the way.

“Bloody hell, you do have a bump, and it’s getting big! Fuck, I wish my boobs were as big as yours. Totally unfair, that is.”

“I dunno what you and Harry are on about, I hardly see anything,” I remark with a shrug, the smile staying when her hand comes to rub my pale stomach. “I just look bloated.”

“Ree, come on,” she scoffs with a tilt to her lips that to my surprise, remains quiet as she stares at my stomach. “It’s more than just bloated, you idiot. You’re pregnant, you’re having a baby. Sure, it takes a while to show, but you’re starting to!”

“Hardly,” I chuckle, dropping my blouse once she leaned back against the pillow with her cup of joe. “It’s weird being at this awkward stage where I’m pregnant but I don’t look pregnant.”

“I can imagine, but hold on. Take a few steps back to the ‘not knowing when you’re getting married’ part. Do you and Harry really not know?”

“How are we supposed to?” it comes out in a laugh, not as I’d expected at all. “I’m due to pop this baby out around the same time we had it planned for in the first place.”

“So,” she begins whilst blowing on her coffee. Something clicks inside of me when that happens, along with the raise of her brow. “You’re just happy with waiting, and not knowing when it’ll be? That doesn’t sound like you, Ree.”

“Thanks for being depressing, Skye,” I try to say with a laugh, but it doesn’t go over well, because I can’t find one. No, if there was anybody else in the world who could read me like a book, it’s my first grade best friend. “No, I’m not really happy about waiting, but I’m excited about this baby, and what is being married besides vowing to date each other forever? No, it actually is okay. We’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll randomly go to the courthouse one day- don’t worry, you’ll be invited, if we do. Or just wait and make it grand- you know, once I lose the baby weight or something.” I sip from my peppermint tea with a hand on my bump, knowing that I couldn’t be happier, but still wondering how we’re going to do all of this.

“Don’t be so sad, Ree, my god!” she exclaims with a playful swat to my shoulder. I laugh along with her, but as I stare into my tea, it doesn’t remain for long. She’d hit a nerve and with a cautious glance her way, I can tell that she knows it. “How’s about the house? The six bedroom and three bath with a grand yard, covered porch, marble kitchen island, fireplace, walk in closet, and dare I say, a pool?” she blabbers on in a posh sounding voice, making me laugh this time.

“Good, it’s um, good. I dunno what else to say, Harry’s the one who talks to the contractors and all,” I offer with an outstretched hand, unsure of my words.

“Come on, Ree, you’re building a bloody house!” her boisterous laugh comes. Her eagerness shows, as well as the three glasses of wine she had with dinner. I’m not sure the one cup of black coffee is going to help her much.

“I know, but I dunno- I more so just go over the plans with Harry and approve them, I guess?” I say with a large shrug of my shoulders. “There’s not much to update you on since you last asked about it. It’s a house, they take forever to build. I won’t get to have much fun with it until it comes to like, picking wallpaper and tiling.”

“Well, will it be ready by the time the baby comes?”

“I doubt it, but Harry keeps insisting it will,” I muse aloud, watching the ripples in the brown liquid when I blow on it, feeling the steam grace my cheeks. “It’s fine if it isn’t.”

“Your response to everything is ‘it’s fine,’ since when are you like that?”

Pressing my lips together, I lift my head to meet her curious stare, a tired one after that wine, “I’m just going with the flow, Skye. I’ve found it’s better than being upset about plans being changed. I wanted to get married, then build a house, and then have a baby. But it’s okay, we get to do the baby part first. It’s like dessert before dinner, and I can do that. It’ll be fun,” I tell her, feeling the truth in them as well as the grimy half-lie.

Should I tell her or will she brush it off, as if it’s nothing? It wasn’t nothing to me though, that dream this morning, it’s bothered me all day. I’m not sure how much longer I can go without telling somebody about it, but it scares me to have to recount it, and being afraid they’ll tell me it means nothing. Because that’s the last thing it meant to me, and something inside of me keeps telling me that I shouldn’t just forget about it.

“If you insist,” she sighs, clucking her tongue. “Are you two still meeting Asher and I tomorrow night?”

“Y-Yeah,” I answer shakily, too deep in my thoughts to notice the way the tea burns my lips. What if I can’t figure out what that dream meant, will it be okay?

/

A cacophony of sounds pelted my ears the second we walked in the door. Apparently we weren’t the only ones with the good idea of trying the new pizza and arcade place on a Friday night.

“Well, this place ‘s neat, innit?” Harry comments as we approach a table tucked into the corner, between skeeball and some flappy bird looking game.

“Yeah, it looks great. Loads of games,” Asher comments when we pull out chairs to sit across from them. “No, don’t sit down. We just ordered the pizzas, but they may take a little while. Let’s go and get started on the games. I saw Pacman and a Supermario game when we came in,” he continues emphatically, already getting up from his seat. Skye laughs beside him, joiningAsher as I let go of the chair.

We pass parents and children, teenage couples, and a few others like us on our way to the front. There, we find the machine that’s replaced the coin contraption back from our day. No, you no longer had to feed coins into each game and have paper tickets spit out at you.

“’s kind o’ sad, dontchu think? ’s all digital now. Ya don’t have tha fun anymo’ o’ counting tha tickets and yer coins,” Harry muses while sliding a card from his wallet.

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“I suppose, but that’s no fun. It made me day findin’ a lost coin or line o’ tickets on the ground,” he hums with a shake of his head, pressing buttons on the touch screen. “How much should we do, you think?”

“I dunno,” I answer, forgetting the screen showing different dollar amounts and a description of how some games cost more than others. Instead, my attention is pulled to behind me. I’d seen her on our way in, but now, I look again at the mum sitting in the corner feeding her young baby, watching on as the dad holds up their son to shoot basketballs.

“Hey, ’m talking t’ you,” somebody says, nudging my shoulder with theirs. Turning back around, I find Harry’s green eyes waiting for me with furrowed brows. “Right now, we’re kids again with their friends, playin’ arcade games on a Friday night and stuffin’ themselves with pizza. We still have a ways t’ go on that, five and a half months actually,” he notes softly, nodding his head towards the mum.

“Yeah,” I murmur sheepishly, crossing my arms and looking back at the screen.

“I didn’t mean it rudely, Becks.”

“I know. A tenner should be fine, let’s just do that. We can always load more money onto it,” I insist, lifting my feet and clicking them together, like I’m Dorothy and wanting to go back home. Because, well, I do. It’s loud and my stomach hurts, I’m not sure from hunger or nausea, or both.

I’d been excited when we’d agreed to come here with Skye and Asher earlier this week, but no matter how much I tried to push it away, that stupid dream couldn’t be forgotten. Especially since I had it again last night, and I dreaded going to sleep tonight, in fear I’d see that mysterious little girl and that empty crib where our baby should be. It-

“Becks?”

“Wh-What?” I stammer, looking up quickly to find Harry waving a plastic card at me.

“We’re all set,” he announces, stepping to the side so Asher and Skye can buy theirs next. I follow him, moving out of the way for a little boy and his big brother to come through, rushing to the bathroom behind us. “You okay? Not feelin’ sick or anythin’, are you?”

I think about shaking my head, but when I look back into his eyes, I get The Look. The Harry Styles Look. The Look of all Looks. No, it wasn’t the killer stare I’d first familiarized him with when I sat at that desk at the end of his hall. This one came not soon after though, and it’d stuck. Ever since then he could read all of my tells, including how uncomfortable I am right now, or maybe just how I’m overthinking. He knew that look too.

“I’m probably just hungry.”

The curl hanging over his forehead is knocked loose when his head bobs up and down, but I reach a hand up to set it back in place.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get some pizza in that belly soon. I know how you’ve been craving it,” his dimples once again hide under his beard, one that had been growing thicker as the winter carried on. I feel its length when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple, his hand caressing my bump only a few seconds later.

“Thanks.”

After a few games, I found myself getting into it more and laughing at Harry’s competitiveness. I’d learned a long time ago that laughing about it was better than getting mad about it, and also that going to play games with Skye turned out better, watching the boys play from the sidelines.

“You doing okay, Boops? Tummy not good or are you tired?” the question came as I watched the little screen rack up my tickets from a Scooby Doo version of Whack a Mole. Instead of a red button marked with ‘25 cents’ a touchscreen with a card swipe sat there.

“Both, but what’s new?” I murmur, following her past Ring Toss, some car racing game that doesn’t give you tickets, and Space Invaders. At last, we found Air Hockey open and decided to have a go.

“So, what is it really?”

“What’s what?” I replied with an air of faux stupidity, pretending to focus hard on hitting the puck back her way.

“Why have you been acting weird lately? Just because I had some wine last night doesn’t mean I didn’t notice it.”

“Oh, that. You noticed,” I comment, avoiding her eyes even when she gets the puck past me. Bending over, I pluck it from the holder and hit it over to her, following it.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Whatever it is, which by the way, what is it again that’s bothering you?”

“You don’t sound very smart when you’re drinking. You do know that, don’t you?” a laugh is close to my lips, but it disappears almost as soon as it’s thought. As if to spite me, she picks up the glass of the pink hard cider she’d ordered. Sometimes, I missed drinking and how it made nights like these all the more fun.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” she sighs, tsking when I make the puck into her goal. Groaning, she slams the rest of the cider before dropping the puck onto the glow in the dark table. “But really, what is it?”

“God, are you and Harry stubborn,” I remark with a near groan, taking her cue when she hits it hard my way, deciding to do the same. “Fine . . so I had this dream the other night, like a nightmare almost and . . . ,” I carry on, detailing the entire thing to her, almost hoping that maybe if she says it’s nothing, her inebriated mind won’t remember it.

“Good game, glad you could get some rage out on that one, seeing as how you nearly gave me a bruise that one time.”

“Sorry,” the word drops carelessly as we walk away from the table and through a loud pack of kids. She makes a comment about never wanting kids, only to turn to me regretfully with the same word on her face. “It’s okay. I’m probably worrying for nothing.”

“I know you and don’t want to say that myself, but it was just a dream, Ree. Aren’t they like, manifestations of your thoughts and all that jazz? Maybe you saw the little girl once or see yourself in her, and want to protect her. It’s the mother in you coming out, I’m sure. I wouldn’t worry too much about it and what it means, it’s just a dream.”

“Yeah, it’s just a dream,” I agree aloud, more grateful than ever for Harry and Asher stepping in our path, telling us the pizzas had arrived. Sitting down beside Harry and arguing with him about Hawaiian pizza whilst our hands sat on the other’s thigh, this had once been a dream to me too.

But the one about the empty crib and the mysterious girl, no that was almost a nightmare, and I’d had enough of those.

[sabraeal]

Hypewired Unsolved Drinking Game, Rule #2: Shirayuki Despairs Over Obi’s Life Choices

Rule #1

Written for @ruleofexception on the occasion of her BIRTH. I thought this would be more ghost hunting and less metrics, but I should have known I couldn’t resist a premise-building chapter.

[Shirayuki] Have you ever heard of the Gardner Museum Heist?

[Obi] Oohhh.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* What was that?

[Obi] Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just... I love heists.

[Shirayuki] You love heists? *laughs* No, I take it back, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

[Obi] *laughs* Come on, who doesn’t love a good heist?

[Shirayuki] This one *is* known as the biggest art heist of its kind.

[Obi] Oh ho ho ho. You’re saying all the right things to me.

The thing about haunted houses-- the real kind, not the ones that hire teenagers to wear stage make up and hold fake chainsaws-- is that they’re hard to book.

“Oh, in my hometown, they hired ex-convicts,” Obi says in the same casual way he says anything vaguely terrifying about his childhood, “and they gave them real, working chainsaws.”

Her jaw drops, face still plastered to her phone’s screen. Soft jazz worms into her ear. “That can’t be true. That has to be a-- a rumor or something.”

“Nah, nah, the farm had a work program with the local prison. I think sometimes they did seasonal work too?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. But it definitely made the hayride more popular. Gave it a real element of danger, you know?”

Shirayuki stares. “And they gave them real chainsaws?”

“Well, they only revved them a little.” He twitches his shoulder, as much of a shrug as he ever gives. “One time a guy hopped on the cart and chopped the bale next to me, but I mean, I probably deserved that.”

She might be sitting down, but oh, she could really do to sit down again. Harder. Mentally. Emotionally. “And you’re sure these were ex-convicts?”

“Yeah, probably.” Not an endorsement ringing with confidence. “I mean, I’m sure they were in for non-violent crimes, at least.”

There are two wolves inside of her, and one of them is pleased to hear about a local business working to place disadvantaged community members, and the other-- well, the other thinks that maybe everyone should be a little more solid on the whole non-violent convictions than they are.

Before she has the chance to suggest it, the phone clicks, and a pleasant female voice says, “Hill House, Donna speaking, how may I help you?”

“Oh, hi, yes,” she fumbles, “I’m Shirayuki calling from Hypewire. We would like to talk about booking your location.”

“Hypewire?” Donna pauses, the good long kind that means she’s probably from a generation that prefers to read its news on paper, and not from a website that has an option to react with emojis. “Oh, did you want to do an article on the house?”

“Ah, something like that.” Obi arches a brow, lips twitching as he crams another Funyon between them. He’s far too distracting to have around while she needs to have thinky thoughts, especially if he’s going to make faces at her. “I’m the producer of Hyperwire Unsolved, and we were wondering if we could possibly do a, ah--” she coughs-- “an investigation? Of the house? For the show?”

“Oh, Hypewire Unsolved!” The woman laughs. “My nephew loves you guys. But don’t you do true crime?”

[Sender]: sales@winchesterhouse.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Re: Episode Filming

Thank you for your interest in our venue for an episode. Some of our interns are big fans of your show! However, we have to admit some confusion, as we were under the impression you were a true crime show…

“How’d they get that impression?” Higata grunts, hunching further over his keyboard. His screen in the only light in the editing bay, castling a ghastly glow over his face. “The art department just sent me six different aliens to pick from for the Roswell episode, and now we’re Serial? Come on.”

Shirayuki sighs. “I know. But it seems our more popular episodes are the ones about collar bombers and serial murderers. At least by the metrics”

Higata might only be twenty-six, but he’d be right at home at the VA buffet with the way he grumbles. “You know His Highness over there was talking to me about making true crime and supernatural separate seasons. Something about...keeping views and organizational groups or something.”

“Huh.” She sits back, nibbling on her lip. “It would certainly give me more of a focus each season. What do you think?”

“I guess it’s fine. Two editing credits for my resume for one show’s work is a good deal.” He overlays a shadowy police sketch into the video, shoulders rounded and tense. “What do I know? I just sit in the dark and pick which ghostly visage I want to layer over your audio.”

She leans in with her sunniest smile, squeezing his arm right above the elbow. “And you’re so good at it!”

“I am.” He’s too much of a professional to look away from his work, shifting the same image three pixels over and then three pixels back, but his bicep relaxes beneath her grip. “I am a top tier spooky face picker. All the commenters say so.”

She blinks. “Oh? They do?”

Higata twists in his seat, gaze somehow even more incredulous in the lack of light. “No, Shirayuki, they don’t. But they should.” He gestures to the screen vaguely. “They mostly just talk about how much they want to fuck Obi.”

“OH.” There’s some information she really, really didn’t need. “That’s um, ah--”

“Your job, according to roughly half our fan base.” His mouth hooks into a grin she does not enjoy. “What do you say, Lyon? I think we could break the bank if you kissed him once on camera.”

“I-- I mean--” it’s a ridiculous request, clearly a joke, but her heart is pounding so loud in her ears she can’t hear her own thoughts-- “that’s not really w-what the show is about.”

Higata laughs. “That’s what you think.”

“What does who think?”

Shirayuki jumps straight out of her chair.

It’s not an exaggeration; there’s literal air between her butt and the seat, and when she lands again, the soft cushion makes the most obvious whoosh noise in existence, only worse, since it’s slow too. No obnoxious whoopee cushion womp, oh no, just an endless, air pump whoosssssshhhhhh that’s as blatant as a rattlesnake in the silence.

“Obi!” His lean shadow fills the doorway—wow, is he actually that tall?—and his head tilts, just enough so that his eyes shimmer gold. “I—nothing! We were, um, nothing?”

“We were talking about true crime,” Higata supplies, darting her a pitying look, “and how that’s what everyone thinks we are. Winchester House just emailed back.”

Obi grimaces, teeth flashing white in the dark. “Ah, great. Another one of those.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, deflating into a slouch. “I could talk about Big Foot until I’m blue in the face, but everyone thinks I have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

One narrow brow arches toward his hairline. “But you do have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“I just think animal mutilation is probably a sign things aren’t going right in your life and someone should have noticed.” She waves her hands, at a loss. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to explore a supposedly haunted house.”

His lips twitch, right at one corner. “For a skeptic, you’re really into the idea you could see a ghost.”

“Stories are part of the human experience,” she explains primly. “We use them to understand what feels inexplicable. And ghosts are part of how we compartmentalize death.”

“Or they are the remnants of people who died too soon.” Obi pushes himself off the jamb, sauntering over to where they sit. “Or whatever bad juju is left by human misery—hey, that’s a sweet mugshot. Who’s it supposed to be?”

Higata squints. “I keep thinking it might be Shiira? But the cheeks are all wrong.”

“Huh.” Obi leans between the two of them, nose hovering mere inches away from the screen. His arm presses into her shoulder, too warm. “Brecker.”

“Brecker?” Higata tilts his head. “Oh yeah, I see it now. He’s not gonna like that.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing he doesn’t watch joyless tripe like Unsolved then.”

“Yeah.” Higata snickers, raising the opacity. “Good thing.”

Obi settles back on his heels, hand gripping the back of her chair. She dares a glance up, and there he is, watching her with one of those looks she doesn’t know how to read. “Don’t worry, Lyon,” he says, thumb rubbing at the plastic back. “The season’s only just started. Give it some time.”

“I’d love to,” she mutters, tilting her head back, resting it on his wrist. “But try explaining that to Izana.”

[Obi] I’m just saying, there’s no sexier crime than a heist. ...Well, I mean, that doesn’t involve actual sex.

[Shirayuki] *wheeze*

[Obi] You know what I mean.

[Shirayuki] Do I? Am I finding out too much about you right now? Is this how you get seduced at parties? Girls just cornering you and telling you about high-profile robberies?

[Obi] *laughs* This is absolutely not how I get seduced at parties. Unless you’d like to try...?

[Shirayuki] . . .

[Obi] Besides, it’s not like this is just a regular robbery. Heists don’t happen to normal people. Just the rich ones.

[Shirayuki] Well, this *is* a museum. It’s for learning purposes.

[Obi] Oh, like all that stuff actually *belongs* to a museum anyway.

[Shirayuki] Actually...this time it does!

[Obi] Wow, now there’s a mystery I want to investigate.

“We want to capitalize on the energy from this season.”

Izana isn’t a man who lounges; his mesh office chair is relentlessly ergonomic, only a few aggressively rolled lumbar supports away from a torture device. But still, he gives off the energy of a cat lazing in a sunspot, already gotten into the cream.

“Unsolved has always had excellent metrics, but since the premier--” he glances pointedly at Obi-- “they’re unparalleled by any other digital media Wisteria has put out on any of its platforms.”

Obi sprawls in one of the wire-frame chairs Izana has out, far too big for its delicate frame, every inch of him as still as the grave. Except for his one, bouncing knee, practically vibrating as he asks, “That’s...good right?”

“Very good.” Shirayuki may not be a metrics person, but working with Zen gave her more than a passing acquaintance with what success sounds like. “I think he’s telling us...we’re his cash cow.”

Izana’s lips lift into a smirk. “Just so. You’re more popular than Stand the Heat, and that’s saying something.”

It is saying something-- Obi’s show consistently has the most hits and the highest likes-to-views ratio. It’s been the backbone of Hypewire’s digital media section since it premiered last year, and now-- now Unsolved has passed it. If the graph Izana’s laid out is right, they’ve passed it by...a lot.

Shirayuki sneaks a glance at Obi as he leans over, taking in the numbers. She can’t move, can’t even breathe as he stares, eyes rounding as he understands what’s happening.

He rips the paper off the desk, shaking it at her. “Do you see this?”

She blinks. “Y-yes?”

His mouth breaks into a grin, like a Labrador who has found a particularly giant stick. “We’re awesome.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and wow, this is really not the time to think about the-- the Abayan effect, even if that smile makes it extremely hard not to. “Okay.”

“We should have you on the show.” His knee bounces a mile a minute, words barely keeping pace. “See if that makes the ratings draw even.”

Shirayuki stares at him, but there’s no hint of sarcasm, no undertone of agitation. For all intents and purposes, it seems as if he’s just...inviting her on his highly rated cooking show.

That can’t be right.

“Not a bad thought, Abayan,” Izana hums, fingers tapping at the desk. “Turn that in to me with the rest of your proposals for next season.”

Obi grins. “No problem, boss.”

“Wait.” This is all happening too fast; it’s all too much. Three weeks ago she was scrambling for a new co-host, and now she’s sitting next to Hypewire’s media darling, talking about how she needs to be on his show for his ratings. “I don’t-- we shouldn’t--”

“Oh, can you not cook?” Obi smiles, and it’s-- entirely too much. “Don’t worry, Lyon, you’ll be on top when I’m done with you.”

“N-no!” she chokes. “I-- I’m the daughter of a bar! I mean, my grandparents--” ugh, four years to get a journalism degree, and she still can’t word good-- “they owned a pub.”

“Great.” His teeth flash, half-feral. “Then you’ll know how to follow my lead.”

“I think,” Izana says, tipping her a speculative look, “that Shirayuki is less worried about her prowess in the kitchen, and more about what these sort of numbers might mean to a show like Unsolved. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah, I mean...” It’s terrible how good he is at his job. “It’s all so...quick. We’re still editing this season, and already I’m working on the ideas for next one, and I have to not only write scripts but also scout locations, and Higata is already stretched thin--”

“We’ll get you another editor.”

Her jaw drops. “W-what?”

Izana folds his hands, so calm, and tells her, “We’ll get you another editor.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth utterly dry. It had been a struggle to get Higata last season; after Obi had roasted the idea during Pitch Fight, Hypewire’s higher-ups had been loath to put any actual support behind Unsolved. Only his dogged enthusiasm-- and flagrantly working on the project behind their backs-- had gotten him on board after the pilot took off. And now Izana Wisteria was just handing her someone else. Personally.

She reaches down and pinches herself. Yep, this is-- this is real life. Somehow.

“You want to-- you mean that--” she gulps-- “you want to give Unsolved a team?”

He nods, brusque and efficient. “I can get you another researcher as well. Or if the locations appear to be a problem, perhaps a personal assistant?” He lifts a hand, a Wisteria shrug. “Just let me know your needs, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Unless it’s time, right?” Obi asks wryly. “That’s straight out.”

Izana’s mouth stretches into the barest grin. “The internet is instant, I’m afraid. You have to strike while the iron’s hot. I hope--” he fixes her with a meaningful look-- “we are all able to make the best of this opportunity.”

kisskissfall4luv: does ne1 no f this guy is gonna b here 4 the hole sesson? i luv Zen but i lik the nu guy 2 hes so funny!

kayla0202: I hope he is! I never thought I’d like something as much as Stand the Heat, especially a show about aliens and weird crime, but Obi and Shirayuki make me tune in every week! How long are Unsolved’s seasons again??

unsolvedjunky42: There’s only one other season, and that was 12 eps, though a lot of those were 10 minutes long, and these ones are averaging 17-20min. It looks like Obi Abayan is credited as co-host for the rest of the season: [follow link] So glad he signed on, I thought Unsolved would be dead in the water without Zen but Obi brings a whole new dynamic I didn’t ever realize the show was missing.

zenluvr999: i no were only 3 eps in but i think im gonna need a new name lmao

“Ah, I understand, but we really are looking to--” Shirayuki clenches her stress artichoke, its plush petals ballooning out from between her fingers, and stifles a sigh. “Yeah, I see. Thank you.”

The call cuts off with a beep, too cheerful a sound for its finality. Another opportunity lost. Shirayuki spills over her keyboard, groan lost beneath the function keys.

“Going that well, huh?” Kihal barely spares her a glance, but she does pull aside a headphone; the way editors show they care. “Tell me again how much you love this job.”

“I do love it,” she insists, muffled by the cool metal of her desk. “It’s just...so much work.”

“You know, we could just get that personal assistant.” Higata drops his headphones around his neck, settling back in his chair. It creaks beneath him, protesting his slouch. “I still can’t believe you said no to that.”

“We don’t need another team member.” Shirayuki lifts her head, just barely, to give him a warning glance. “We already have Kihal. That’s more than enough.”

“Really? We still have half a season left to edit, you have another season to write, and you want to tell me we couldn’t use another set of hands?” His eyebrow twitches up toward his hairline. “You just love making all those phone calls, huh?”

“It’s not that.” She rolls back, lifting herself upright. Her spine reminds her sharply that it doesn’t like doing that, that it was having a fine time as she was, but if there’s one thing Shirayuki knows how to ignore by now, it’s a complainer. “Unsolved was my idea to begin with, and if we can’t do the proposal we submitted last week, it should be me who’s to blame for it, not some poor intern.”

“She’s so cute,” Kihal coos across the cluster. “She’s got morals and everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Higata deadpans. “Didn’t you unionize the Yuris office?”

Her teeth flash predator white between the crimson stain of her lips. “Why do you think I volunteered to work this gig?”

He sighs, long-suffering. “See, this is the problem: the both of you like working too much. It’s getting in the way of having someone fetch my coffee for me.”

Shirayuki levels her best glare at him, the one she’s honed from one too many long nights in the editing bay. “If we had a PA, their job would not be to get you coffee.”

“If we had a PA, their job would be to make these stupid phone calls so Shirayuki can get actual work done,” Kihal informs him with a playful superiority than makes his eyes roll. “Instead of spending all day in a fugue of sadness and misery because no one will take her seriously.”

Shirayuki almost protests—there’s no fugue, and if anything, the rejections just make her more desperate and determined, but—

Her list of high-profile options has been reduced by a half, red lines spiking through some of her best hits with no relief in sight. She is about two seconds from eating her feelings through the oversized cinnamon buns in the company vending machine, and a fugue state is starting to sound like a preferable way to spend her afternoon.

“Ugh,” she decides, and lays down again.

“There, there,” Kihal croons, patting her back across their desks. “Someone will have to give you the time of day at some point.”

“I’m getting calls back.” She rolls over onto one cheek, thoughtful. “People are fans of the show! They just...don’t think we’re serious.”

Kihal scoffs. “About what? Aliens? Ghosts? I’ve been fielding queries all morning from Shuuka asking which direction we want to go for The Alexandria episode.”

“It’s the whole ghost hunting angle.” Higata leans over, liberating her artichoke from her grip, tossing it between his hands. “If I want to be fair, which I don’t, but here we are—it’s a new direction for the show. I guess it could be confusing to people used to our format.”

“I know, I know.” She pillows her chin with her hands, letting out a sigh. “I just wish one of them would give us a confirmation instead of—“ she waves her hand at her empty schedule—“all this.”

“They will.” She doesn’t know where Higata unearths all this unearned confidence, but she’s glad one of them has. “Let this season run its course. Zen was never big on the supernatural episodes, but these ones with Obi...people are definitely going to pay attention.”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he had to suggest waiting to Izana Wisteria. “They’re already paying attention to Obi. I’m always getting asked if--”

“If I’m as handsome as I look on screen?”

The thing is-- she’s not expecting it. One minute she’s sprawled across her desk, and the next Obi’s purr is tickling her ear, and--

“Ow, fff--” his gaze darts over where he clenches his nose-- “fudge. Sicles.”

“Nice save,” Kihal deadpans. “Now if only you could do that in the first minute of every video.”

“What can I say,” he honks, rubbing his nose. “I’m an off-the-cuff kind of guy.”

“You’re a ‘ruining our monetization’ kind of guy,” she shoots back, though she pushes over an abandoned chair for him to sit on.

“Oh, Obi!” Shirayuki yelps, hands hovering on either side of his face as he sits. “I’m so sorry! I was just--”

“Surprised, yeah, got that part.” he lifts his fingers, wobbling the bridge of his nose. “No harm done.”

“Good thing,” Higata mutters, “that face gets views.”

“Oh please.” Obi grins, devastating as always. “Chicks love a broken nose.”

Kihal barks out a laugh. “When it comes to you, chicks love breathing.”

He shrugs, sliding into a slouch. “Still no luck, I’m guessing?”

“None,” Shirayuki confirms. “Though people have been saying they enjoy the new season.”

“The concierge at the Roosevelt says you’re a lot cuter than Zen,” Kihal offers, needlessly.

Obi’s grin widens, wolfish. “You don’t say.”

“Maybe you should start using that Abayan charm to get us some bookings,” Kihal suggests wryly. “Earn your keep around here.”

“Please, I earn my keep. I’m the eye candy.” He winks. “Besides, I’d be happy to, but the big boss over here always tells me--”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Shirayuki says, “it’s really my job--”

Higata waves a hand, long suffering. “You see the problem.”

“I do.” Kihal settles back. “Well, if you really just need a place...”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” she says to the particleboard of the ceiling. “Even if it’s just a haunted hole in the ground.”

“All right, well--” Kihal grins, sheepish-- “my condo is haunted.”

[Obi] So you’re telling me that this is just some crazy lady’s house, filled with all her stuff?

[Shirayuki] Isabella Stewart Gardner was a socialite and a philanthropist, *not* a crazy lady.

[Obi] Right, okay, but...she did turn her house into a museum, and then made everyone promise not to touch it. Not exactly what I think of when someone says ‘stable.’

[Shirayuki] Because she *curated* it, Obi!

[Obi] So what you’re telling me is that she knew that from forever to the end of time, she would have better taste than everyone else on the planet.

[Shirayuki] *sputtering* W-well--

[Obi] No, no, you’re right. I retract the crazy lady thing. Because that’s *baller*.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* O-obi!

[Obi] I want to be that lady. Like that is shade from the grave.

[Shirayuki] . . . . She also was personally friends with Monet.

[Obi] SEE? Life goals.

“So,” Obi hums from around a dumpling, his chopsticks already rooting for another, “what do you think?”

Shirayuki looks up, halfway through a very un-dainty bite of her own. “About--? Oh! I can’t believe they’re only fifty cents each! Where did you find this place?”

Despite his reputation on camera-- forward-facing, casual, intimate-- Obi isn’t someone who looks at people head-on. She’ll catch a glance sometimes, or maybe a considering look from the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he’s always moving, eyes darting around to watch who filters into a room, or at the cars moving outside, or staring down the squirrel that likes to scratch at their window.

So when he looks at her, gold eyes trapping her as thoroughly as amber, she notices.

“Well,” he says after a long moment, “when you run a food show, people do give you some hot tips. But, ah--” he rubs at the back of his head, ears pink at the tips-- “that wasn’t really what I, ah, meant.”

Her mouth rounds. “Oh.”

His hands raise, chopsticks knitted under his knuckles. “Though I’m glad you like it! It’s, ah, one of my favorite places too. I just thought that you might have some, er--” he grimaces-- “thoughts, about the whole haunted condo thing.”

“Oh! That.” She taps her chopsticks on her plate, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just think...I don’t know. It’s not a bad place to start, but I just wanted...”

She blows out her cheeks on a sigh. “The ghost hunting is a new aspect of the show, and I wanted us to come out strong with an actual location...”

His mouth curls at a corner, too knowing. “And having us just carry around proton packs and talk about cold spots in a friend’s house isn’t really going to do much for our supernatural cred?”

“Yeah.” She slumps against the chair, defeat. “That. But I also feel like beggars can’t be choosers, and no one else is telling us yes, so...”

He nods, mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. “So there’s no rush to say no.”

“Right, yeah.” She glances at him from the corners of her eyes. “How about you?”

Obi blinks, eyes fluttering wide. “Me? This isn’t really my--” he hesitates, mouth working, starting a half dozen words-- “ah, I mean, I think...it’s smart. You’re right, a bigger place will give us more credit, but if one doesn’t come through then we have to start somewhere. Besides,” his mouth tics at a corner, twitching toward a smirk-- “I’ve always wondered whether she’s bikini or boyshorts.”

It’s only when her chin hits her chest that she realizes her jaw has dropped. “We’re not there to look in her underwear drawer!”

“Well, we’re not at work for her to look in my gym bag either,” he replies, sour, “but she did anyway.”

“She already said that was an accident--”

“--a likely story--”

“--That’s not what I meant anyway,” she admits with a huff. “I wanted to know if you were okay with the whole, ah...” her shoulders round, shy-- “metrics thing.”

“Metrics?” His head cocks, quizzical, but then-- “you mean, the stuff Izana showed us weeks ago?”

“Two weeks ago,” she corrects, heat flaring on her cheeks, “and, um, yes. I just...you’re not mad?”

Obi stares. “About what?”

“Unsolved.”

He shakes his head. “You’re...really going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The ratings.” She pokes at a dumpling, miserable. “Stand the Heat-- that’s your baby isn’t it? You pitched it and everything.”

“I...did?” he says, brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just-- Unsolved is doing better.” It’s not bragging, she knows that, but it feels like it. “And it’s-- it’s okay if you’re, um, upset about it. You’ve been doing this for--”

“OH.” Obi coughs, suddenly looking anywhere but at their table. “No, I really-- you don’t need to worry about that. At all. Please.”

She stares. “Obi, it’s okay. I’m not going to take it personally if you--”

“Kid, please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “It’s nothing. I mean, yeah, if Stand the Heat was on top, I’d be happy. I mean, I was happy when it was on top. But, this is...” his fingers twirl his chopstick mindlessly-- “this is good, too.”

“But--”

“Listen, I know you may find this hard to believe, especially with how we, uh, met, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a huge fan of the show. Not even a little. Understated it, in fact.” The tips of his ears flush. “So, uh, it’s kind of cool that I joined my favorite show, and now it’s super popular. That’s sort of the whole fanboy dream, right?”

“O-oh!” She stares down at her hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I, uh...I didn’t...I didn’t really think of it like that.”

“Yeah, well, now you know you don’t have to worry about it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m living the dream here. Not only am I on the show, but I’m more popular than the last guy. And I get to take the cute host out to lunch and call it business. The only square I need to finish fanboy bingo is getting to ki--”

His teeth snap down, so loud she hears the click. “Haah, never mind. Hey look, is that the waiter? Could we, ah, get the check?”

[Sender]: iwisteria@wisteriacorp.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Season 3 Hard Proposal

Is there any reason this isn’t in my inbox already?

Shirayuki closes her inbox with a grimace. “Ah, hey, Kihal?”

Her editor looks up, brows raised. “Yeah?”

She licks her lips, bracing herself. “Just...how haunted do you think your condo is?”

[endless-whump]

Simon/Oliver: Luna

CW: panic attack, car accident injury, broken limb (non explicit), animal threatened (animal doesn’t get hurt), mild self harm in the form of panic/stim, self blaming

Masterlist

---

The breeze was cool as Oliver sat in the grass, fingers fidgeting idly with a clover.  It was quiet, the streets mostly empty in the late evening.  Simon was only a few feet away, laying flat on his back with an arm draped over his eyes.  Oliver could tell he wasn’t asleep, noticing the subtle tapping against the side of his leg.

He was picking another blade of grass when something small caught Oliver’s gaze, pulling him to turn his head and stare at the blur of color in the road.

There was a cat

Oliver went very still, breath catching as he spotted a car coming down the road.  The animal was tiny, a blur of dark tortoiseshell in the street as a car drove towards it.  The cat..it wasn’t moving out of the way.

“Ollie?”  Simon asked. Oliver barely heard him, head twisted as he froze to stare at the scene unfolding, instinct taking hold.  He dropped the blade of grass, struggling in an effort to get on his feet.  Simon’s gaze locked where Oliver’s was, and his intentions finally clicked.

“No, no Oliver don’t!” In an instant Oliver was scrambling to his feet, bits of gravel digging into his bare feet as he sprinted through the grass and into the road, arms waving desperately as he reached the cat.

“OLIVER!”

He scooped them up, heart racing as he stared down at the animal. There was a screech of tires as the car jerked to a stop, but not soon enough.  Oliver hit the ground hard, the impact stunning him as he rolled once with a cry of pain, clutching the animal to his chest.  

His head smacked against the pavement with a hard crack, sending the world blackening in a terrifying wave of darkness, knocking the air from his chest as he went still. Everything went silent, ears ringing as muffled, barely audible shouts surrounded him.  Everything felt..tingly.  He blinked, the smell of gas taking over his senses as he tried to gather his surroundings.  Everything felt frozen, and he found he couldn’t seem to move.

He couldn’t move anything

Strong hands settled on his shoulder and under his head, rolling him gently over until he was facing up.  Simon’s face hovered above him, expression lined with visible panic even as Oliver’s sight blurred, like static filling his vision and threatening to pull him under.

-’ve got you, Ollie, I’ve got you.”

He almost sounded underwater, but his voice was soothing anyways. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t move, nothing really hurt, he was fine.  He just fell, and he grabbed the cat..and everything felt tingly and his chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe.  He wasn’t hurt, though-

“God- Call Sandy now, he’s bleeding.”

He felt heavy, like he couldn’t even lift his arms if he wanted to.  Fingers ran through his hair, brushing it out of his face as Simon held him gently.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry he just ran right out-”

Oliver leaned into the touch, eyes starting to flutter shut. Everything was getting so dizzying and confusing, and he wanted nothing more than to block it all out.

“Oliver, Ollie you gotta stay awake, ok?  Stay awake for me.”

He fought hard to listen, to obey the pleading above him. There was shifting, an arm supporting him and lifting him to a sitting position.  He blinked as his vision darkened, the change in position sending his head spinning with dizziness.

He was completely pliant as Simon picked him up, head supported against his chest with his hand.  It was odd, not being able to feel his legs swinging uselessly as he was carried, Simon seeming to be the only solid thing as the rest of the world spun around him.  He was warm, the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon one he clung to, knowing it meant Simon was the one holding him.

Oliver blinked as he heard the start of an engine, not even realizing they were in a car.  He started to become more aware of his surroundings, trying to turn his head and move. That's when the pain hit him, that numb buzzing in the back of his mind exploding and transforming into a stabbing pain that made him whimper and gasp for air, eyes slamming shut.

Fingers ran through his hair but they hurt, the back of his head stinging with pain and feeling warm and wet.  He tried to cringe away but Simon wouldn’t let him, holding his head gently but firmly in place.

Everything hurt and there had been a cat- had he gotten to the cat?  He needed to see, he had to get out, he needed to move.  He was panicking, trying to pull himself up and move his legs but they just wouldn’t fucking move.  

“S,Simon, Simon I can’t, I can’t-”  

He pushed himself up and pushed all of his willpower into moving, and his world exploded into pain.

Oliver screamed, struggling against Simon’s arms holding him tightly against his chest. He tried to squirm out of his grip, arms flailing against the agonizing pain.  His arms were grabbed with an almost harsh grip, wrestling and pinning him down on the car seat as he sobbed.

“Hey hey, focus on me, ok? Fuck- Mia, can you hand me a towel or something?  His head is bleeding a lot, he’s getting himself worked up.”

Oliver winced as something pressed hard against the back of his head, held there securely by Simon's head as he held the boy close to his chest.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe, body shivering as waves of pain and panic continuously washed over him.  

“-obably broke something....five more minutes..”

He tried to pay attention to the voices around him, head pounding as he squeezed his eyes shut.  He felt like he couldn’t hold on any longer, sinking further and further even as fingers tapped frantically against his temple, shaking him slightly to try and keep him awake.  He just couldn’t anymore, and maybe that was for the best.  Maybe it would just be best if he..just let go.  Letting go couldn’t hurt that bad, right?

---

The first thing Oliver saw when he woke up was a set of small, yellow eyes.  The cat laid on his chest, staring curiously at the boy as he woke up, disoriented. The cat was a dark tortoiseshell, pale whiskers twitching as she cocked her head at him.

“Hey, Ollie.”

Oliver flinched, not even noticing Simon was sitting beside him at first.  He was home, propped up with an array of pillows on the couch.  He instantly relaxed, reaching a hand out to hesitantly pet the cat.  She purred contently, rubbing her face against him and closing her eyes.  He could see the bandages wound around his arm all the way up to his hand, his skin torn from where he fell on the rough asphalt.

He moved to bring his knees up, to curl up around the small animal on the couch, when he realized he couldn’t.  He froze, staring at his leg.  It was propped up with a pillow, wrapped in a dark green cast that went almost all the way up to his knee.

“Simon?”  He said quietly, questioningly.  His voice was laced with panic and confusion, the pain in his leg dulled but agonizing nonetheless.

“Ollie..”  Simon started, biting his lip.  “Oliver..you broke your leg..  You’re gonna be fine, I promise, it's just going to take some time for you to get back on your feet.”  He set a hand on Oliver’s leg, trying to be reassuring.

His face fell as he processed the news, eyes going a little blank. “I..I can’t walk?”  he whispered, nails digging into his palms.  

“It’s going to heal, Oliver.”  Simon insisted.  “You’ll be able to walk, probably within a few months.  You’re not stuck like this, I promise. You’re ok.”

He felt panic rise up in his chest, and anger, for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint.  No matter what, he always was able to run.  His escape was to be able to run, to get away, to be able to flee when he needed to.  He couldn’t do that anymore, for who knew how long.  For some reason it felt like a breaking point for him, all the stress and injury building up releasing with this one, seemingly simple thing.

Oliver was silent for a moment, taking quick, shallow breaths through his nose, jaw clenched.  He wanted to scream, to throw something, to let out the anger of being left vulnerable like this in the worst way.  He wanted to let himself tear open in all the ways he was never allowed to, to let himself be angry.  

His resolve crumpled like sand.  He buried his face in his hands, choking on a sob that turned into a miserable wail, fingers curling in his hair and pulling.  

He yanked hard on his hair before slamming his palms against his head in a panicked instinct to inflict pressure and a small, sharp pain he could control.  It sparked the headache building up that was probably being held back by whatever meds they had him on, sending shoot pain behind his eyes, ears ringing as he sobbed.

“Hey- Oliver..”  Hands grabbed his wrists firmly, trying to pry his fists away from his own head. Oliver just yanked them away harshly, yelling incoherently.  He just wanted to lash out at something, take his anger out on the person who caused him this much pain and misery.

The only person he could seem to pin that on was himself

Oliver froze when a soft, furry head bumped against his arms, and looked up at the reason all this happened in the first place.  He watched the cat press up against him, pushing his hands away from his face, and the anger dissolved as if an ocean's wave swept in, leaving no trace of it.

He’d ran out to grab her..there was a car..

The cat purred as Oliver scooped her up, bringing her close to his chest as he cried.  He latched onto her with everything he had, telling himself it wasn’t a foolish decision. He’d do it all again.

Simon sat quietly, giving him the space he needed to let it all out.  He owed him that, at least.

“She followed us, when we tried getting you into the car.” He said softly, smiling tiredly. “We let her in and she hasn’t left your side since.”

Oliver nodded, running his fingers through the soft fur, shaking as he got a hold of himself, calming down.  The cat had a long scar running down her ear, making it twist a little. As if it was clipped, or torn.

“What do you want to name her?”  Simon asked.  He slipped a hand behind Oliver’s back to shift him, pulling the pillows out from behind him and moving to sit next to him, supporting him.  He wrapped his arms around him gently, setting his chin on top of the boy's head.

Oliver thought for a moment, leaning into the touch.

“Luna.”  He replied quietly, taking a slow, shuddering breath.  “Want to name her Luna.”

Simon nodded, reaching out to pet her.  “Luna it is.  I’m sure she’ll be good company, and Mia’s already agreed to let us keep her. And Oliver?”  He hugged Oliver close, kissing the top of his head.  “I’m proud of you, for running out like that. Worried the hell out of me, but I’m proud of you for grabbing her.  I’m not sure Luna would be here if you hadn’t.”

“I’m..I’m glad too,”  Oliver murmured, snuggling up against Simon, desperate for the comfort. “You’re sure I’ll be ok?”

“Yep.”  He ran his fingers through Oliver's hair gently, careful to avoid the sore spot where he’d fallen.  “You’ll be running around before you know it.  We’ve already sorted everything out with Sandy, you’ve been out for a while.”

“Ok,”  He sighed, closing his eyes.  He was all too willing to put his trust in them, in Simon, when they said everything would be ok.  He tried to ignore the feeling of the cast around his leg, the pain dull but still all too there.

Everything was ok, everything was going to be fine. He was going to walk again, he was ok.

He wanted so hard to believe he was ok.  

---

taglist

@insanitywishes @18-toe-beans @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @briars7 @albino-whumpee @thatsthewhump

[ask-emilz-de-philz]

FANFICTION BY: ''You know who you are ; ))'' AU: #actorAU PAIRING: MIKHAIL x ARCHER (aka HS!AU Adult Emilio's actor and HS!AU Adukt Abel's actor) RATED SPG HAHAHAH (( no really so those under 17 y/o look at sommin else hahah))

((A/N: The moment I saw Mikhail and Archer my brain immediately made this story up. Sorry if they’re OOC or something, it’s only been a few times that Mikhail appeared and Archer only appeared once so far. It might be a lil steamy for some, but I really tried to tone it down I promise 😂))

((Milo’s here too, sorry again if he’s OOC 😅))

—-

On a shooting for a special limited edition blu-ray release, a very intense kiss scene between the couple, Emilio and Abel.

Archer softly moaned in between the kisses, “M-Mi….” he gets interrupted everytime by a very excited Mikhail, who noticed that Archer is already calling out his name, and not his character’s name. Mikhail shut his mouth by deepening the kiss and caressing his back, hands slowly inching its way lower and lower. Archer tightened his embrace. Mikhail lifted him up and put him on the table. Archer squeaked in surprise, but did not move his lips away. Archer subconsciously raised his legs and crossed them together, making Mikhail even closer than before.

Mikhail, caught up in the passion, breathily spoke while his lips were on the other man. “I love you, A–”

The director yelled, “Cut!”

The lively crew applauded and began to talk about how hot the scene was, and all that crap that Mikhail could care less about. They were too caught up in their conversation that it would take some time for them to remember the two actors who were still glued together.

The instant Mikhail heard the cue, he backed away reluctantly, grudgingly. Anyway, it was not the right situation to confess, better do it when they’re off camera, in private, as Archer and Mikhail, not as Abel and Emilio. He smirked when he noticed that Archer moved a little bit forward, as if to chase after him, but stops and blushes all the way to his ears when he realized what he’s doing. “G-good work,”

Mikhail looks down at Archer, whose gaze remained on the floor. They were still a bit out of breath, and Mikhail relished the heat. He took in Archer’s scent, the red flush on his soft cheeks, his teary eyes still glazed with desire. Mikhail shivered in arousal, licking his slightly swollen lips that were still wet.

Mikhail couldn’t resist. He carried Archer up again, with the excuse of helping him get down, and subtly kisses his neck that even Archer doubted whether it was intentional or accidental.

“Good work.” Mikhail spoke lowly beside Archer’s ear, and he enjoyed watching Archer’s cute little ears tremble from his voice.

‘So cute, so sexy. He’s like this because of me. I want to see him like this everyday.’ No one, not even Archer who was the closest in proximity to him, noticed Mikhail’s warm gaze on Archer. The people who knew Mikhail personally would hardly describe him as a good person. Just like the dragon on his body, he was known to be cold and ruthless, especially to 'pests’. However, they couldn’t deny that Mikhail was fiercely loyal, and that once he considers you one of his people, he will surely protect you.

Even so, if they saw how Mikhail looked at Archer, as if he were a man lovingly watching his cherished lover, they would probably wonder if they needed a prescription from an optometrist. Mikhail did have a few friends, people he would always protect, but none that he treated so preciously. Because Mikhail was cold. Mikhail was ruthless. Just like the dragon on his body.

Alas, the dragon found his one and only Treasure.

It would be a mistake to consider the Treasure his weakness; rather, if there was anyone thoughtless or brazen enough to harm or steal his Treasure, they would be touching upon his reverse scale.

His Treasure seemed to be a bit afraid of him, but that’s okay - everyone was. Mikhail will just have to slowly but surely creep into his heart, and by the time Archer notices that he’s in love with him, he’ll be ready with a ring.

Noticing his gaze, Archer, who had been reading the script, turned to Mikhail and asked, “What is it, Mikhail?” he said with a polite [read: nervous] smile. After that intense kiss scene from back then, Archer seemed to be more nervous around Mikhail, yet at the same time more defenseless.

Mikhail chuckled, thinking to himself, 'Ah, I’ve got a long way to go.’ but he replied without missing a beat, “Just admiring the view. It’s beautiful.”

Archer blushed and buried his face in the script. “Thanks.” He said it in such a quiet voice that if Mikhail didn’t have better hearing than the average man, he would have failed to hear the next words: “You too.”

Mikhail’s eyes wided before he laughed, which made Archer even more flustered. 'Maybe not so long after all.’

While Mikhail was busy planning how to make Archer his wife, Archer was lost in his thoughts. 'Geez, I got swept up by Mikhail’s pace again! Archer, you have got to be strong, don’t be swayed by his sweet words, his thoughtful gestures, his warm eyes, his k-kisses….. AAAAHHHHH STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!’ Archer scolded himself for being too easily swayed.

Despite the chaos in his head, he still managed to maintain an unperturbed, gentle expression. 'Well, it’s not that I’m easy,’ Archer thought. 'It’s just that it’s hard not to love Mikhail.’ All of a sudden, he sighed as the excitement rapidly drain from him. 'Whatever, Archer. Don’t feel down, it’s just a crush. He wouldn’t like me in that way.’

——

A point in time after their marriage.

“What do you want.” Mikhail grumbled. It’s late. There were hardly any cars on the road, but Mikhail was still careful as he drove. He figured the phone call would help keep his focus, otherwise his thoughts would just go back to the man waiting for him at home.

The voice on the phone chuckled. “Why, can’t I just be a nice senior checking up on my junior? How’s the married life, Mr. Grumpy?”

Mikhail had no patience for nonsense. “If you’re calling for such a stupid reason, I really should have cut off your tongue and fed it to the pigs.”

“Oh my, how cruel! You still can’t let that incident go? Even your wife didn’t mind, how petty of you.”

That man was getting on his nerves. How could it be possible to hear his smirk through a call?

But….. hearing people refer to Archer as his wife……

“What, were you that happy I called him 'your wife’? Haha, how adorable!” Milo teased.

“Shut your trap, pretty boy. What do you really want?” Oh how he wished he could sew Milo’s mouth shut.

“Well, I’m just letting you know about that one time I visited your shooting….”

… … …

'There was such a thing?’ Mikhail didn’t even remember. He grinned, thinking of a good idea. 'Well, I should make up for that…. right?’

When he opened the door, the lights were still on. Archer was snuggled up in blankets on the sofa while reading his script. An empty cup and a pen were on the table.

Mikhail embraced his wife from behind the sofa, “Hey babe, I’m home.”

Archer jolted in surprise, taking off his headphones as he looked behind. “Mikhail! Welcome home, dear. Would you like me to heat up dinner? Or would you rather take a bath first?”

“I prefer the third choice.” Mikhail gave his wife a kiss. It was the beginning of his 'compensation’.

Archer was a bit flustered, but he was used to it. Mikhail was unexpectedly clingy, and even after getting married, he was still the same devoted and loving husband.

“You know that you’re the only one for me right?” Mikhail used his ultimate weapon: whispering lowly right beside the ears.

“Ah, hm, yes, um, you want dinner? I’ll prepare dinner!” Archer hurriedly escaped to the kitchen, wondering what got his husband riled up.

Had Archer looked back, he would have realized from the look on Mikhail’s face that the 'dinner’ would be thoroughly eaten up tonight.

The couple woke up at noon the next day. Thankfully, they both had the next few days off. It was Mikhail’s turn to cook because Archer was still in bed. It was rather difficult for him to get up due to their 'dinner’.

Archer got a call from a person he didn’t expect, but wanted to talk to.

“Good afternoon Mr. Grumpy’s little wifey~”

“Milo! Why did you say that to him?” Archer rebuked, though it could hardly be considered an angry tone.

“What? That you were jealous when a young and bold crew member was blushing and hovering around Mikhail like a high school student in love?” Milo made an effort to sound innocent, as if the culprit wasn’t him.

“I-I wasn’t even–” Archer’s cheeks flushed. He really wasn’t jealous! He even told Milo how cute that girl was around her idol, Mikhail!

“I can tell from your hoarse voice that you had a good time. Hope you liked my ve~ry special gift for you two!” from the other side of the line, someone was calling for Milo. “Well, that’s the last of my 10 minutes. Enjoy the rest of your holiday,”

Archer turned to lay on his stomach, burying his face on the pillow.

The door opened soundlessly, but Archer knew that Mikhail was there, just staring at him. Or probably his butt.

“Is food ready?” Archer asked.

“Mhm.”

“Can we eat here?”

“Mhm.” Mikhail laid on his side beside his wife.

Archer faced Mikhail with a look of curiosity, “Well, where is it?”

Mikhail opened his arms. The deadpan look on his face was obviously saying, 'Food is served. Eat well.’

Archer was stumped. This was the man he used to be afraid of? All he could do was laugh and indulge his sticky husband, moving closer to cuddle with him.

——-

(A/N: This is what I would have asked had I gotten the chance to XD I thought hard about what to ask Archer, but I ended up running out of time lol, but that’s okay bc it’s become a fuel for my fantasy) (this isn’t in a proper story format like the ones above, just saying 😂)

'NEVER HAVE I EVER treated my co-actor like I would treat their character on screen

Question for: Archer’

Archer: Hmmm, so far, never. While I and most of the people I’ve worked with get so immersed and emotionally invested in our role, I believe I do a good job of separating my emotions from my character’s. Similarly, I can separate my co-actors’ characters from their off-screen selves.

*Mikhail walks in on the set, speaking out of the camera’s view* Mikhail: Hey babe, I bought some sandwiches. You like the one with mayo or nah?

A: You don’t like mayo, right? I’ll have it. And next time, please don’t disturb the set when there’s an ongoing interview, alright dear?

*walking away already* M: Mmkay. I’ll take you home, I’ll wait for you to finish.

*turning back to the interviewer as if nothing happened* A: So yes, where was I?

Interviewer: Um, didn’t you just … .

*Archer realizes what just happened, internally screaming because oMG I WAS SO RUDE TO MIKHAIL WHAT IF HE GETS MAD AAAHHHH BUT NO WAIT WE’RE HANGING OUT ON OUR FREE TIME, AND WE’VE GOTTEN QUITE CLOSER ALREADY RIGHT?? HE WOULDN’T MIND RIGHT??? I WOULDN’T JUST WAKE UP SINKING IN THE OCEAN RIGHT?!?! TTATT* Archer: Hm, well, we’re on good terms, it just became natural. *gives his best sparkly smile to stun the interviewer and quickly escapes after some greetings*

[haledamage]

7 from the hug prompts for whichever character you like!

(7. tired hug. featuring Marii&Arcann, between chapters 6 and 7 of KotET. In which Marii gives a speech, they beat each other up for a while, and then become BFFs. cut for length because this got, uh, really really long)

Bonding

“Need a sparring partner?”

Arcann didn’t look up from the poor, defenseless training dummy he was slowly disassembling with his lightsaber. “No. Thank you.”

Marii could tell he was trying to get her to leave without actually telling her to go away, but she wasn’t easily intimidated. If she hadn’t feared him when he was her enemy, why would she fear him now that they were allies? She leaned against the remains of an adjacent dummy that he’d already destroyed, watching him. “Vesiya tells me you refuse to join her in battle.”

She could feel a flash of annoyance from him, only there for a second before it was swallowed by the fathomless ocean of his aura. “That is correct. I suppose she sent you to convince me. Here to philosophize at me, Jedi?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. And I’m not a Jedi. Not any more than you are.” She stood and started pacing behind him slowly. He didn’t turn to keep her in his line of sight, but he reached out with the Force carefully, almost timidly. She relaxed her shields a little to let him in, let him know she meant no harm. “Jedi believe that emotion is a weakness. That feeling anything too strongly will open you up to darkness. Jedi are allowed to do anything as long as they don’t feel anything." 

A little bitterness crept into her voice as she spoke of the Order. Old wounds, poorly healed. She didn’t push those feelings away, but she didn’t give them the attention they wanted either, keeping her focus on the man in front of her. "Meanwhile the Sith use their emotions as a weapon. Fear, pain, anger, they wrap themselves in them until it’s all they know how to feel anymore. There’s no room for joy or love when all your power comes from rage.”

Arcann lowered his saber with a single, quiet ‘ha’, barely more than just a sharp exhale. It was the closest thing to a laugh she’d ever heard from him. “Somehow you manage to make them both sound like my father.”

“I wish that surprised me.” Valkorian had hurt so many people through his long life, but looking at Arcann, who’d been broken and pieced himself back together, wrapped in serenity but balanced on a knife’s edge, all Marii could feel was sorrow. She wondered what kind of man Arcann would have been if not for his father’s evil; she hoped he stuck around long enough to find out.

“Neither philosophy has ever worked well for me,” she continued, shaking herself from her thoughts. “My power comes from connection. From the love I have for this family we’ve built here. I’m stronger with them than I ever was without. And I think you’re the same way. That’s why Valkorian worked so hard to turn you and your siblings against each other. To isolate you. And you’re still trying to isolate yourself. I’m not going to let you, Arcann.” She put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t tense like she expected him to. “You need us. And we need you. Let us help you.”

He deactivated his lightsaber, hooking it back onto his belt, but still didn’t turn to look her way. “Nice speech. Tell me again how that wasn’t philosophizing at me?”

Marii grinned at his attempted joke. “You got me. I was a Jedi almost thirty years before I left. They do love to give speeches.“

"You know, before, when I was…” he paused, unable or unwilling to say the words, though they both knew what he meant, “part of me was always disappointed I never got to fight you. I had heard tales of your victories against my father and wanted to test my strength against yours. By defeating you, I could prove that I was stronger, better than he was. I thought it was another one of his games, that I kept being denied the opportunity. I took it as a personal slight.”

“No offence, Arcann, but you took most things as a personal slight then.”

He laughed, actually laughed. A little rough and raspy for lack of use, but still a beautiful sound. "You’re not wrong.” He walked over to the rack of practice swords on the wall, pulling two down, then turned suddenly and threw one her way. She caught it easily. “Is your offer to spar still open?”

“Always.” She reached out with the Force, pulling another saber off the wall into her waiting hand. She spun both of her blades around in an unnecessarily showy flourish, testing the weight. “Don’t hold back.”

He rushed her without another word, faster than she expected, but not too fast for her to counter. Despite the initial advance, though, he was still clearly holding back. She purposely let him past her guard a couple times, but he didn’t actually hit her, stopping just short of contact. She pressed the advantage, landing a solid strike on his right elbow; even with practice blades, that would still sting.

He shook it out, and when he attacked next, he hit hard enough to send a shockwave up her arm from the blow. Now they were getting somewhere. “I know what it’s like,” she said as she parried another attack, locking his saber between both of hers. “To be controlled by him. To have his voice in your head.”

A spike of anger rose from Arcann, only an echo of the fury he’d carried not long ago. It wasn’t directed at her, or even at Valkorion. It was directed inward, at himself.

He struck at her again, lightning fast, and she ducked low and rolled behind him. He hit a target dummy instead, knocking it to the floor. “You know nothing about me.”

“The rage, and the pain, and the helplessness, and the innocent blood on your hands.” Marii punctuated each statement with a slash from her swords, pushing him back one step, then two. “I understand.”

He broke through her saber flurry with one single, well-placed blow. She stumbled back a step and he swung his sword down toward her head; she had to bring up both sabers in order to block him. He leaned heavier on the blade, using his weight and superior strength to force her back another step. She could feel the hum of electricity from the practice saber on her face. “Does it ever go away?”

“No. Not really.” It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but she wasn’t going to lie to him. There were still nights when she woke up paralyzed with fear, Vitiate’s voice echoing in her mind. She let the memory of it bleed past her guard, let him feel the truth of it in the Force. “But it can get better. With help.”

She dropped her block abruptly and Arcann lost his balance when he was no longer faced by any resistance. She side-stepped as he fell forward and moved out of his range. There was a burning pain in her cheek that told her she hadn’t been quite fast enough. A wave of emotion, a strange mix of guilt and pride, rose from Arcann when he saw it. It made him hesitate for the smallest moment before he pressed the attack again.

She didn’t know how long it went on like that. They were pretty evenly matched, moreso the longer they fought as they learned each others’ strengths and weaknesses. Whenever one would gain the advantage, the other would close it again.

He was strong, amazingly so, both physically and in the Force, but his attacks were precise and calculated instead of just brute strength. Having fought both his father and sister in the past, she found herself reminded more of Senya than either of them. There was a deliberation in every step he took that he had clearly gotten from his mother.

Marii could see how Ves had lost so many fights to him; she wasn’t sure, if she’d faced him when he was out for blood, if she would have been a match.

They were starting to gather a crowd, but Arcann showed no sign of noticing. Marii’s bare arms were covered in angry red welts from his saber and under his robes he probably wasn’t faring much better, but neither of them gave any ground.

She landed a lucky hit to his chest, knocking the air out of him, and with a low growl and a push from the Force, he threw her across the room. She slowed her descent, dropping one of her sabers to catch herself in a three-point landing, then leapt back into the fight, bringing her single blade down in an arc that he only barely blocked in time.

“You are more than the weapon he tried to make you,” she said quietly, so it wouldn’t carry to their audience. “Stop holding yourself back.”

“I don’t know how to fight without the rage. I don’t know who I am without it,” he replied, voice so low she could barely hear it. “I won’t risk the Commander getting hurt if I lose control again.”

“You’re fighting without the rage right now. It was a crutch. You don’t need it. Trust yourself, Arcann.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then trust me.”

With another growl, he shoved her away, though it took noticeably more effort than it had before. They were both slowing with every swing, panting and drenched in sweat, but they still refused to quit, to be the one to back down.

Eventually, it was Marii that slipped up. Arcann landed a solid strike to her left wrist, knocking the blade from her grip. She tried to switch to the other hand, but she was slower with her right side. With a parry and a sweep that would have made her trainers at the academy weep with pride, he knocked her sword aside and threw her to the ground in a single motion. His blade was at her throat. The room was dead silent except for their harsh breathing and the crackle of electricity from the vibroblade.

Marii lifted her hands in surrender.

Arcann’s practice saber immediately joined hers on the floor and he reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and he lifted her effortlessly back onto her feet.

There was a scattering of applause and cheers from their audience. It looked like most of the base had shown up to watch them. Arcann ducked his head in embarrassment, but Marii was close enough to see the hint of a smile on his face. On a whim, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, leaning against him exhaustedly.

He froze, alarmed, hands hovering by her sides but not touching for a long moment before he gave in, clinging to her. He pressed his face into her shoulder and she put a comforting hand on the back of his head. How long had it been since anyone had hugged him, had offered him anything but violence? No wonder he felt so adrift without it.

She held him as long as he needed her to, only letting go when he did. “Feel better?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“You know what? I do.” Maybe he hadn’t been the only one that had some things he needed to work through. “Been a while since I’ve had a good fight.”

“Let me know when you feel like getting beaten again,” he said, his soft voice warm with amusement. “I’m happy to offer you a rematch.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I like you. I’m glad you’re here, Arcann.”

“Yes. So am I.” For the first time, it sounded like he meant it. She could feel the moment he realized it as well, a new undercurrent of resolve in the stillness of his aura. “Thank you, Marii.”

“Anytime.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, then stepped away from him to start picking up the scattered practice swords. “If you ever need to talk, come find me. No judgements.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He bowed, stiff and formal, an old habit he hadn’t broken yet. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to have a word with the Commander.”

[thesilverdragoon]

By Order of the Exarch

Previous: Bumps and Bruises

Next: To Amh Araeng

“I’m supposed to what?”

“By the order of the Crystal Exarch himself, you are to show him around and to report his training progress specifically to me, is that understood?”

Gennar stared at Captain Lyna in disbelief before glancing directly behind her towards the road leading away from the construction grounds. “...Yes, er… where is he?”

Lyna turned her gaze in the same direction, though it was more pointed towards the sky above the woods. “He will be arriving by amaro soon. Make sure you have your priorities in order before then.”

“Aye Captain...”

With a singular silent nod, she left him.

Gennar let out a small grumble. Babysitting? That freak of all people? Something about that hardly sounded right to him, ‘orders from the Crystal Exarch’ or not.

That day out in the road… That fellow-whoever-he-was was dangerous. A beast among their ranks. And yet the Exarch himself insisted upon it?

Still, it wasn’t his nor anyone else’s to question such a decision. Surely the Exarch knew of things that they did not. He only had their best interests in mind, after all.

It wasn’t long before the particular screech of what could only come from an amaro rang out from overhead. The creature flew around the site in a wide arc before lowering itself down rather daintily on the landing platform they had just finished building the day prior.

‘Dainty’ was not a word that could have been used to describe its passenger however.

Gennar immediately felt his face fall into something of a scowl. There he was.

He’d seen the strange elf from afar only a handful of times back at the Crystarium, wandering around with his eyes about to pop out his head as though he’d never seen such a magnificent place before. He probably hadn’t. Arval wouldn’t stop talking about him either. ‘The man from Eulmore’ he said, and Fenick always made a grimace anytime he was mentioned.

The last thing he’d said to either of the boys was to stay away from him.

And while he was glad that the man(monster?) was here with him instead? Gennar hadn’t the foggiest idea how to deal with him.

“Pull your foot up- the other way- THE OTHER WAY!!” The Zun handler on the platform bellowed at the man as he tried to yank his foot away from the amaro (who hardly looked distressed about it and kept chewing on whatever cud it still had.)

“It’s STUCK I told you!-”

With a sharp SNAP the leather strap on the seat broke and the elf fell backwards as the Zun handler let out another roar. “You HALFWIT old FOOL- you owe me a new saddle!!”

The longer Gennar watched, the less fear he felt.

This was to be his charge? This pathetic old man?

Before the situation flew out of hand any further than it already had, he came over, “Alright, alright- what’s going on here?”

The Zun’s nostrils flared as it looked down at him in a rage. “Is this one one of your own?”

“He is now, I’m afraid, on order of Captain Lyna and the Crystal Exarch.”

“Hmph. Tell your captain then that I will require a new saddle.” The handler snorted.

Gennar sighed. “Yes, yes, fine. You!” He pointed at the elf who in turn pointed at himself once he’d gotten back onto his feet. “Yes you-” Gennar paused, shutting his eyes for a prolonged second as he gathered himself mentally. “You’re the traveler on the road we had run into before?”

“Y-yes! That’s right. Er-… The Exarch- he arranged something with Captain Lyna and had me sent out this way to help?”

Gennar eyed the old man up and down critically once again.

“...Your uniform’s in order at least. Good. But you’ve no weapons with you.”

“Ah- well-”

“I hope you’re not expecting to fight off eaters with your bare hands. Fancy prosthesis or not.”

“It-”

“Nevermind,” He shook his head. “We’ll get your a spare sword to work with. There’s still a matter of overseeing your training. I’m sure Captain Lyna filled you in on that much at least?”

“She did,”

“Good. Come on then.”

The Zun eyed them as they left, making sure to remind them, “I want my saddle by the end of the week, Gennar!”

Gennar ignored him and continued walking. “This is the Ostall Imperitive. Or at the very least, it will be, once construction’s finished. We’ve only just started as you can see. It’s rather dangerous hauling any amount of supplies out here this far into the wood, especially when the eaters are worked up into a frenzy as they have been the last few weeks.”

“Why is that?”

“Well that’s the mystery isn’t it?” He turned to face the old man, shrugging in exasperation. “And you are…?”

“Vesevont.”

“Vesevont. Right, anyhow… once we get you a sword we can start on some basic sparring after I’ve made my rounds along the outside of the tower.”

“The tower?” Vesevont tilted his head back as they headed straight for the aforementioned and uncompleted tower-to-be. “Oh, I wasn’t sure what that was going to be. It seemed a bit too large for any sort of watchtower.” “On the contrary, that’s exactly what it’s going to be. On the outside anyway. The inside will provide us valuable storage space for extra supplies and the like that the others will need.”

The two fell into a temporary bit of silence as they started up the ramp that curled around the structure. Scaffolding surrounded the base of the tower and followed the ramp alongside them, every soldier working on their assigned areas with brick and mortar.

Every so often Gennar would catch a glance at Vesevont looking around wide-eyed, much like he demonstrated back in the city. Was it that uncommon to see soldiers building something? Was any of this here unfamiliar to him at all? It seemed like it.

Maybe something was wrong with him (well of course there was.)

They paused as a mystel crossed their path carrying a bucket of mortar. “Morning Gennar!”

“Morning Zalsi-Mae, how’s progress on this side? Do you have what you need?”

“Aye sir, gonna hoist up the elevator so I can work on a higher section! The wind’s died down, now seemed like the perfect time.”

“Just be careful.”

“Aye sir!” On she went.

Ves watched her go for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Gennar. They continued along, greeting several other people here and there until they reached the ‘top’ of the tower, though it was clear that this was going to only a mid-section of it. “Do you know how long it will take to finish this building?” He asked.

“If all remains on schedule, which is likely won’t, then perhaps at the end of the month or so? You can’t really predict eaters and what they’ll do. Not all the time, anyway.” Gennar crossed his arms as they looked out over the construction site and the violet forests beyond. The Crystal Tower loomed in the distance like an ever-watchful giant, hovering over the woods. Un-moving. “...Where are you from anyhow? I don’t recognize your accent.”

The old man tore his attention away from the view. “Huh?” He stammered a bit, “W-well, strange thing that. I don’t really remember.”

Gennar rolled his eyes. “I see. Something about Fae was the word on the street, I believe.”

Ves swallowed noticeably and nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And what about...” Gennar lowered his voice and glanced behind himself for just a moment. “...That creature?”

Immediately Ves tensed up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Creature?”

“Yes, that thing we saw you turn into when we found you wandering on the northern past. That thing?” How could he forget? Gennar furrowed his brows in the most confrontational way possible as he began drumming his fingers impatiently against his arm. “Did you forget what you did to that large sin eater that nearly killed you?

You should have been dead. And yet here you are as though nothing ever happened.”

“O-oh yes, that!” Ves grinned a very lop-sided grin. “It’s funny- I don’t really remember that part either! All of a sudden… there everyone was and then it got dark- and then we were back in the city.”

“It’s not funny.” Gennar ran a hand down the side of his face, now frustrated. “Forgive me, but I think any normal, sane person would consider your ability to do whatever it was that you did to be extremely dangerous to those around you.

How am I or anyone else to know you might not suddenly attack one of us?”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“So you CAN control this strange power!”

“No!- I just-”

“Just what then??”

Ves couldn’t hold eye contact the entire way through, and ultimately turned away, with his fingers digging into his hair.

“I want you to prove to me that you’re not dangerous before I even begin sparring with you. Captain Lyna’s orders or not.” Gennar demanded, though, not so loud that everyone could hear their conversation.

Damn the Exarch’s orders. Sure, he came shortly after Vesevont had destroyed the elite sin eater, but he wasn’t there to watch him change into that dark, toothy monstrosity. He wasn’t there to see what he did to it.

“How am I supposed to prove something like that?! I don’t suppose you have another one of those warrior-eaters lying around for me to demonstrate on, do you?” Ves snapped back, annoyed.

“No- but-” A strong gust of wind blew past them, and they could hear the scaffolding rattle all around the tower. Only, there was a sharp CLANK and a sudden scream that rang out, causing the two of them to bolt back down the way they’d come.

“What’s going on?-” Gennar came towards the edge of the ramp where there were others gathered, in clear distress. “Zalsi! What are you doing down there?!”

“Th-the elevator s-somehow came untied- one side fell down here- get me DOWN from here!” The mystel guard from earlier clung onto the side of the tower wall as best as she could while also hanging onto the elevator platform. Its rope had snagged onto some extruding part of the structure and was bobbing back and forth in the wind.

“Well don’t just stand there with your jaws hanging open!”

“W-we can’t- if there’s another gust of wind she might tip over all together! And we can’t reach that far down!” Another one of the hum guards interjected.

“Then go down to the bottom to catch her! Or SOMETHING!” Gennar snapped, pushing several of the lingering guards out of his way. “Come on!!”

“Do we have any extra rope?” “No! I mean maybe- it’s all back down at the-” “Well go look for some!”

Once they had gone and more of the others started moving around looking for rope, Vesevont approached the edge cautiously.

Despite only being halfway up the tower structure, it was still a long way down to the ground below. High enough that anyone who fell from up this high would be seriously hurt at the very least.

Another strong gust came, causing the platform to sway dangerously from side to side as Zalsi cowered from where she was.

“Not gonna be good,” A voice whispered into his ear.

Ves swallowed. “Not here,” He muttered back as a third gust battered against the tower.

The elevator platform began to slip, slowly. “Oh- no no no-” Zalsi shrieked again as it slid further, grinding against the wall of the tower.

“Th-they’re going to catch you! Or get a rope- don’t worry!” Ves shouted, unhelpfully.

“Don’t WORRY?! YES I’LL TRY THAT!!”

“S-SORRY-”

With a final and sudden creak, the elevator platform dropped.

“FORGET IT, JUMP-”

Ves hardly was able to take a breath when his entire body violently lurched forward, launching him off the ramp and down the side of the tower (shrieking and all.)

His arm turned black and flew towards Zalsi, wrapping around her waist in mid air as the rest of him twisted to face the sky. His prosthetic took on the same dark tendril-like form in an instant, shooting back towards the edge where they had just stood, halting their descent quite suddenly.

By the time Gennar and the other guards who followed him reached the ground below them, they could all see the two hanging there.

“G-GENNAR SIR??” Zalsi-Mae stammered, ears pinned back as she kept turning her head to look up at a dangling Vesevont who hung in between herself and the ramp above them.

“Wh-” Gennar clapped his hands on top of his head in the same fashion Ves had done before, fingers digging into his scalp.

“How’s he doin’ that?”

“I’ve never seen magic like that!”

“That’s the man who turned into that monster on the road! I heard about ‘im!”

Just what had the Exarch given them?

Or rather, who??

[sabine-leo]

Kiss or choke

The second prompt request from @snarkalumpf i was able to pair up with the wishes of @confessionsofastrugglingteen. They both wanted a Loki x reader fic with following numbers, i just added them together! I hope you both don´t mind the merge!! 

6.           “I thought I´d made it clear that we have a NO abduction policy?!” “She was not cooperating, what did you expect me to do?”

16.         “Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently”

23.         “I don´t know if I want to kiss or choke you!” “Both?!”

27.         “Excuse me, I do have to go make a scene”

33.         “Oh, screw yourself!” “I´d rather screw you”

37.         “Your sarcasm makes me wanna puke!” “Should I hold your hair?”

41.         “Yes asshole, I do care about you!”

25.         “Oh you are still alive…” “Don´t sound so disappointed, I might think you don´t like me”

 Author: @sabine-leo

Pairing: Loki x reader

Genre: Humor, teasing, fun,

ONESHOT

Slumped over Loki’s shoulder he carried you into the compound were the Avengers had their basis. Your arms were dangling behind his back your hair swaying to his steps. Tony stopped on his way to the lab. “Oh, you are still alive…” But he grinned a bit as he said it, not even commenting that you were unconsciously dangling over his shoulder. Loki arched an eyebrow at him.  

“Don´t sound so disappointed, I might think you don´t like me”

“You did grow on me Reindeer Games!” Tony grinned a little and was on his way.

 Making his way further into the corridor Cap was waiting for him with arms crossed over his chest.

“I thought I´d made it clear that we have a NO abduction policy?!” He said exasperated. Equally irritated Loki rolled his eyes. “She was not cooperating, what did you expect me to do? Hold her hands and talk to her until she came to her senses? There were bombs going off left right and centre!”  Cap pressed his lips together before taking a deep breath through his nose and answered.

“Bring her to her room. You have watched her over the last 3 months, you will see to it that she does not try to run…AGAIN! Maybe try a bit of that noble charm of yours and don´t actually SCARE her away…AGAIN!! We, YOU got the order to look after her otherwise you will be punished by SHIELD for trying to take over Earth 3 years ago!!”  

“She irritated me…” Loki said in his defence but Cap interrupted

“You irritate me on a daily basis, but I haven´t tried to kill you for at least 2 weeks now!”

Grinning a bit Loki looked at Steve and blew him a kiss.

“Stop that or I might think you care for my wellbeing!”

“Yes asshole, I do care about you!”

 Steve shook his head with a sigh leaving him.

“I can´t believe I just said that! Bring her to her room and STAY there with her!”

Loki mockingly saluted and padded your legs. “Come sweet darling, let me bring you to your chambers and toss you in a wave of passion onto your bed!” Neither Cap nor Loki had recognized that you came awake during their little chat. Still a little groggy from the spell he had blasted upon you you said. “Loki, your sarcasm makes me wanna puke!” Loki chuckled a little but retorted

“Should I hold your hair?” “No, thank you I´ll gladly puke into your pants!”

Your hands grabbed the hem of the leather and lifted it a bit to look at his ass.

“(Y/N)!” Loki snarled “Stop it!”

“Or what?! You will try to kill me?” You liked to irritate him, it was like self-preservation. If he wasn´t angry at you you barley knew how to keep him at a distance. He was hot, freaking hot and you liked his wit and his humour. Only when he was angry at you there was a slight chance you did not want to jump his bones. His voice dropped very low.

“Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently”

 Propping your elbow against his back to steady your head in your hand you said a little bored

“Yes… I know that, you said that like a hundred times already. But out there everything can and wants to kill me too, so there is really no point in me staying here! I am screwed either way!”

Loki opened your door and tossed you on your bed, regaining his regal posture a second later.  

“Then how about you stop trying to work against us…and foremost ME and get in our, MY good graces?!”

 You know he had a good point in asking you that. You haven’t made the last months easy on him..or the others. All they did was giving you a save haven and regain your strength again. You had been hurt quite a bit as Tony and Banner had recovered you out of inhuman hands because they forced you to heal their fighters. Medically trained AND inhabiting some kind of magic that allowed you to mend wounds and speed up the recovery you had been very useful to them. Well, you could be useful to the Avengers too, IF you would let them in and actually try to get to know them instead of hiding and running away.

Loki, you had gotten to know better over the last months, and that had scared you quite a bit. He had changed after he had come to terms with himself and the role he wanted to play in the greater scheme. He still was scary as fuck if he wanted to, but he was also a very gentle and kind being if you got past the hard shell, he had engulfed himself with. You had just poked this shell, but he had gotten under your skin as he had cared for you after your first weeks in the compound. You could not heal yourself faster, it just didn´t work when you tried to funnel your energy into yourself. Loki had tended to your needs, he was snarky about it but he had done everything you had asked for and then even more.

 Things between you had changed 5 weeks ago. There was no mistaking the sizzling energy that filled the room when you two were together. He barked, you barked back. You teased, he threatened you with torture. Thor, his brother just watched with a big grin on his face whenever he could.

“It´s like a soap opra….Just with more blood and swear words!” He had laughed.

 Loki was still standing in front of your bed and watched you intensely. “SO? Will you work WITH us or do I need to knock you out with a spell again?!” Huffing you stood up and walked into the bathroom.

“FINE!” You yelled and kicked the door shut. Loki just grinned and said quietly.

“She will be the death of me, but oh do I like her!”

“WHAT?” You yelled, you only heard him murmur.

“Nothing DARLING, I was thinking about joying you in the shower!!!”

All he heard was the lock clicking into place.

 2 months later you were healed and had not made a run for it again. Tentatively you had gotten to know everybody else better, even worked out with Nat and Clint in the gym. Fight training with Tony and Thor had been straining but helped you in many ways to improve. Loki mostly was were you were, sitting in the back and commenting your errors. It was like a sport to him, he enjoyed riling you up very much. The both of you weren’t supposed to be together at all times anymore, but somehow you still were. Like the earth and the sun, you circled around each other, watching, testing the waters but not ready to get burned yet but getting closer and closer. This night you were throwing daggers onto a target to improve your aim. Nat was standing beside you and gave good tips, Tony next to you observing silently.

 “You throw like a blind aimless baby! Give it more sass, more anger!”

“Shut up Loki!” You snarled and hit the bull’s eye.  

Nat nodded, ignoring Loki. “Good, you are getting better!”

“To slow, too much work out of the body try more to work with your shoulder!”

Actually, that was a good comment, but Loki had been nagging at you for the last 4 hours straight, you have had enough! Looking over to Nat you said “Excuse me, I do have to go make a scene”

Nat looked at you but before she could stop you there was a knife embedded in the wall next to Loki’s head. Tony just laughed. “That was a good throw, you just missed his head…”

Loki stood and laughed! Walking over to you he pinned you down with his gaze.

 “My. My little half human. Am I effecting you SO much that you just throw a knife like it is supposed to be thrown after I teased you for nearly 5 hours straight? You will not have that time in a fight! You will be screwed in minutes!”

You´ve had it for today!

“Oh, screw yourself Loki!”

With a big grin he stood before you “I´d rather screw you darling!”

Tony and Nat looked at each other with big eyes and started walking to the door simultaneously.

“Oh please, don´t try to charm me!”

“Charm you? I just said I wanted to screw you!” Loki laughed a boyish but handsome laugh.

“If I had known that you find THAT charming, I would have started sooner to woo you like that!”

 “Seriously Loki, I don´t know if I want to kiss or choke you most of the times!” 

Loki grinned mischievous and brought you to fall with a quick move and hovered above you.

“Darling, how about both?!  I am through with watching you from afar! I will take you as mine now!” His head came down and his lips met yours !!! 

 Outside the gym Cap came as Tony just closed the door. “Wait, I do have advanced training with (Y/N) now.” Tony snorted. “No, you are not!”

Steve looked irritated “Yes, I do!”

Tony blocked the door. “No, believe me you DON`T. Loki is already giving her…. advanced training...finally! If I were you, I would not interrupt. Otherwise you´ll end up as hood ornament on his reindeer helmet!”

 The gym was blocked for the next 2 hours….

Tags for:  @drakesfiance @confessionsofastrugglingteen @inlovewithfreyamikaelson @heart-shaped-hell @theoneanna @marikochi @snarkalumpf

[benhardyisdaddy]

Say It - Part 1

MASTERLIST

Description: break up sex between you and Roger.

(this is my first ever smut piece so if u judge me for my shitty writing i will personally fight u oKAY dont make fun of me im sensi ti ve. i do hope u rog thots enjoy it tho. my hand hurts from typing lmao ily all GN ps i thought of ben!rog while writing this, but it doesnt matter)

WARNING: smut, smut and some more smut (duh), talk about cheating 

Word Count: 3,173

Breakups are horrible. Everyone can agree on this. Especially when the breakup is with Roger Taylor. You can guarantee that your face will be plastered all over magazines now. Nosey paparazzi trying to get every detail of ‘the power couple of the century’ as they had called you.

But now that was over. And all over a stupid fight you and Rog had a few days ago. You were both home and he was standing in the kitchen cooking something for dinner. You had just gotten a unexpected phone call from Fred. The two of you talked for a while when he shared to you some news you had not been informed of yet. You’re taken back by it and say your goodbyes before hanging up.

You stare at your phone, a slow creeping feeling of anger runs through your veins. You harshly toss the phone on your bed and you make your way to the kitchen. Roger’s back is turned from you as you stare at him.

“When were you going to tell me?” you whisper.

Rog turns around and raises a brow, not understanding.

“Tell you about what?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and walk to the living room. He follows you close behind.

“About what?” he asks again. You whip around and the look on your face makes his freeze. You were angry. More than angry. You were beyond livid.

“You’re leaving in four days, Roger! For six bloody months! And you didn't even tell me!” you practically scream the last part.

He looks down and shrugs.

“And the worst part,” you continue. “Is that Fred told me, Rog! Not you!”

He shifts his feet as he looks back up to you.

“I was gonna tell you, okay? I just didn’t wanna upset you.”

You roll your eyes and dramatically laugh. You place your hands on your hips and squint your eyes.

“So you thought not telling me would make it better? So what? When the day comes and you have to leave, were you just gonna go and not say anything?”

Rog’s eyes go wide and he takes a step forward, shaking his head.

“No! I would never do that! You know I would never do that!”

“Oh,” you shout. “Just like I knew you would never cheat on me, huh?”

You instantly regret the words that came out of your mouth. Rog’s jaw tenses up and he closes his eyes. You take in a deep breath.

“Is this what this is about? You’re still thinking about that? Still holding that against me?” he asks, his voice low.

You run a hand through your hair. You were so angry that you wanted to cry, but you were fighting that urge.

“I will never not think about that. It’s in the back of my mind 24/7. It’s all I can bloody think about!” you yell.

“It was one time!” he shouts back.

“You act as if that’s a good thing! ‘I only cheated one time so it doesn’t count’.” you say, mocking him.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” he says, his voice lowering.

“You never mean it like anything!”

“Well at least she didn’t bitch at me like you do!”

You gasp. You take a step back and stare at him. His eyes open wide, this time he’s the one regretting what he had just said. You tense your jaw and feel tears fall down your face. Your heart stung at those words. The way he said ‘she’, as if she actually meant anything to him. Or maybe she did…

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that at all, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me leav-” he goes to say, but you quickly interrupt him.

“I hate you.” you whisper.

He looks up quickly and shakes his head.

“Please don’t say that.” he whispers back.

“I hate you.” you say a bit louder.

“You don’t mean that.” he says as he takes a step closer to you, only resulting in you taking a step back.

You turn and speed walk to your room. Roger follows behind you and keeps apologizing. You grab a bag and start throwing random items inside of it.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You ignore him.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

You turn around and walk back into the living room. You grab your purse and keys. You walk towards the front door and Roger grabs your wrist. He turns you around and your harshly slap him in the face. He gasps at the sting and you’re shocked by your sudden actions.

“I deserved that.” he says looking to you. You wipe away some tears and the thought of smacking him again crosses your mind, but you don’t.

“I’m leaving.” you whisper.

“Okay, yes. We should calm down and-”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m leaving you. I’m moving out.”

Roger blinks a few times, trying to process all of this.

“You’re just upset right now. It’ll pass.” he says, fast.

“I don’t trust you anymore, Roger. You’re right, I’m still angry about what you did,” you hiccup. “How will I know that you won’t do that again to me?”

He reaches forward and grabs your hand. This time his eyes look glossy as he searches your face.

“I won’t. You have to believe me. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Me too.” And with that, you walk out.

___________________________________________

It had been three days since the last time you’ve seen or talked to Roger. He had called you repeatedly, but you ignored him. He had called Fred and even showed up at his house demanding to see you, but he never did. It broke your heart to do this, because you loved him. But you love yourself more.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?” asks Fred, watching you grab your car keys.

You smile and shake your head.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. I’m just grabbing a few boxes that Brian missed, then I’ll be home. Okay?”

Fred nods and pulls you in for a hug.

“You should slap him again.” he says in your ear. You lean away and can’t help but laugh. You say your goodbyes and head to Roger’s place.

You arrive there and walk up to the front door. Should you knock? You still have a spare key. It was going on 11 PM, you were hoping he’d maybe be out. There didn’t seem to be many lights on. You use your key and slowly open the door. You walk in and shut it behind you. You look around and walk in the living room. The two boxes Bri had missed were stacked in the corner. You walk up to them just as the living room light flicks on. You jump back and turn around. Roger was standing in nothing but some pajama bottoms. His eyes were swollen and his hair was a mess. You awkwardly smile.

“I’m just grabbing these.” you say, picking up the boxes. You turn back around and look to him then to the door. You turn and walk to it and open it, but suddenly it’s slammed shut. You gasp and take a step back. Roger’s look on his face is a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes are hooded and his brows are slightly furrowed, but his eyes are dark.

“You’re really leaving me?” he asks, voice emotionless.

You tense your jaw and look down.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“All because I fucked another girl?” he asks.

You look up and roll your eyes.

“Get out of my way, Roger.” you say as you go to open the door again. It’s slammed shut.

“Just say it.” he says, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Say what?” you ask annoyed.

“Say that you don’t love me.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Why not?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Because I don’t want to you idiot!” your voice matching his.

“Because you still love me!” he shouts.

“Of course I still love you, but I also hate you!”

“Well good! I still hate you too!” he says.

“Well good!”

“Good!

And with that his lips crash against yours. You drop the boxes you’re holding and tangle them in his hair. The kiss is harsh and fast, his tongue slamming against yours. His hand reaches down to your bum and squeezes. You let out a soft moan that drives him wild. He backs you up and slams you against the wall. He slowly grinds into you and you can feel his bulge growing by the second. He reaches down and picks you up as you swing your legs around him. He slowly leads the two of you to the bedroom and throws you on the bed. Your breathing is fast and heavy. He stands above you and looks you up and down. You bite your lip as he hovers over you, his lips on yours again. His hand presses down on your crotch and you moan at the pressure. You already feel how wet you are as you squeeze your thighs together. Rog leans away and places his hands under the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. He reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. It lands next to your shirt.

He leans down and kneads your breast as his mouth attaches itself to the other. His tongue licks and swirls around your nipple as he nips at it. Your back arches as you let out a moan. His hands find their way to your jeans as he unbuttons them. He leans back and pulls them off. You laying on the bed in nothing but your panties is driving him crazy. He scoots down to be nearer to your crotch as he starts rubbing you through your panties. His fingers graze over your clit and you let out a loud hiss.

“Ah, fuck. Rog…” you whimper.

He smirks and leans closer to you, kissing your inner thigh. He slides down your panties and leans himself back up to you.

“You talk too fucking much, you know that?” Just then he shoves your panties in your mouth and smirks.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says as his finger reaches down to stroke you. “Already so wet.” he moans. His finger traces over your entrance before he shoves two fingers inside. You moan and close your eyes at the sudden feeling of him. He gave you no time to adjust to him when he starts pumping in and out of you fast with one hand, while the other grabs your wrists and holds them above your head. He leans down and begins sucking on your nipple again, while his thumb begins grazing over your clit. Your back arches as you slightly yell out a muffled moan. He leans down and licks your folds. His fingers are removed from you as he begins sucking on your clit. A loud, wet sucking sound makes you groan loud. Pleasure rips through as he adds a finger in you as he sucks and twirls his tongue around. You scream out his name and dig your nails into your hands. He smirks against you as he picks up his pace, curling his fingers just right to find your sweet spot. It takes him a moment, but he finally finds it. Your whole body jerks as you cry out in pleasure. He continues his movement until he knows you’re close. Your legs begin shaking and he stops. He removes his fingers and you whine.

You watch him as he sticks his finger in mouth and tastes you. You shiver at the sight. He smirks and grabs your waist and harshly flips you over on your stomach. You squeal and giggle. Rog slaps a hand across your ass hard and you gasp, leaning your head back. He spreads your legs open and situates himself between you. You feel his tip tease your entrance as his hand wraps around your throat.

“Say it.” he says, before slamming into you. You gasp and squeeze your eyes close, your hand reaching up to grab onto his hair. Rog pulls away the panties from your mouth and returns his hand to your throat.

“Say it. Say you love me.”

You gasp as he harshly slams into you fast, his grip on your throat tightening a bit.

“I… I love you.” you say, stuttering your words.

Rog squeezes even tighter, almost cutting off your airway and then stops. He pulls out of you and you make a noise of disapproval. He flips you back around on your back and kisses you, but this time more gently. He lines himself back up and slowly enters you. You pull on his hair and he moans into your mouth. He picks up his speed he grabs your leg and flings it over his shoulder. He angles himself and thrusts into you. He hits your sweet spot and your eyes squeeze close. Your hands fall to your sides as they grasp onto the sheets.

“Say you love me.” he says again loud.

“I love you!” you cry out as he repeatedly slams into you. Your hands go to his back and scratch down it. He hisses and brings his lips to your neck.

“Say it again.” he whispers.

“I love you.” you whisper back.

Just then Roger puts his arms around you and lifts you up so that he’s sitting upright on the bed, as you straddle him. You moan at him still inside of you. You put your arms around his neck as you begin moving up and down. His eyes flutter shut as his mouth parts open. He sneaks a hand between your legs and begins to rub tiny circles against your clit. You lean your head against his shoulder as a tight buildup in your stomach makes your legs shake again. Your gasps turn into loud whimpers. Roger’s other hand digs into your hip as he picks up his pace. You ride him fast as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers.

He’s close, you know it. His hand sneaks up to your hair and grabs a fistful. He leans his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes.

“Say,” he closes his eyes and moans as you swirl your hips around. “Say it again.” he breathes out.

“I love you.” you say again. Just then you feel yourself about to explode. Roger’s head falls back as he repeats your name like a prayer.

“Oh, Rog,” you moan. “I’m gonna…”

“I know baby. Me too. Cum for me.” he says as he returns his finger to your clit. This sends you over the edge. A knot fills your stomach and you start to see stars. Your whole body trembles as you try to catch your breath. You cum hard and shake profusely on him. It isn’t long after you that Roger cums. You feel his hot wetness fill you deep inside. He bites down on your shoulder as he shutters under you. He jerks a few more times and then stops. The both of you are panting hard and leaning your head on the other’s shoulder. He’s still inside of you when you slowly lift up to lie back. You both groan at the emptiness. You fall back on the bed and feel his cum slide down your leg. Roger falls next to you, his breathing still fast. The two of you lie there for what feels like forever. Roger turns to face you.

“Stay with me tonight.” he says.

You turn on your side and look at his eyes then his lips. You nod your head and he smiles. He leans in and gently kisses you.

“Say it.” he whispers once more.

You close your eyes and feel them begin to sting with tears.

“I love you.” you say as your voice trembles. Rog smiles. You run a hand over his face and turn so he could spoon you and also not watch you cry. You fall asleep with his arm around you and his hand in yours, just like before.

_______________________

The light of the sun peeks through the windows blinds. You yawn as you slowly open your eyes, adjusting them to the brightness surrounding you. You blink a few times and turn your head to look at Roger. His hair is in his eyes and his mouth is slightly parted. His breathing is deep and slow and you can’t help but smile. You could stare at him for forever. You reach over and lightly stroke his cheek. He stirs a bit and you freeze. He turns his head to the other side and you look over to the clock on the wall. 6:48 AM. You lay your head back down and rub your eyes. It’s way too damn early to be up, but you had to go. You look back over to Rog as you slowly sit up. Your legs fall over the beds side and you stand up. The cold floor against your feet makes you shiver.

You creep over to where your clothes lie on the floor and scoop them up. You walk to the corner and hurriedly throw them on. Your body aches because of last night. You can feel it in your muscles as you slide your jeans on. You look back over to Rog and wipe away a few tears. You walk to his bedside table and slowly open it up. You grab his pad and pen and look at him once more.

When you walk back into the living room, you pick up the boxes where you had last left them and turned to look around the place you had once called home. Your chin trembles at you begin to silently sob to yourself. You place a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself down. You open up the front door and step out. You look back and smile.

“I love you,” you whisper. You shut the door.

_________________________

Roger stirs himself awake as he rubs his eyes. He looks over to your side of the bed and sits up when he realizes you’re not there. He looks around and then to the place where your clothes once laid. They’re gone. He looks on his bedside table and a note is laying on it with his name scribbled on the front. He unfolds it and immediately realizes it’s your handwriting. He knows right away what it’s going to say. Tears pool in his eyes as he chokes back a sob. He didn’t want to lose the love of his life. His best friend. He begins reading.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again soon, but this can never happen again. I did love you, Rog. More than you can ever know. What you did destroyed me, but don't ever think for a second that I don’t love you. I do love you, Roger. More than anything in this universe. Which is why I’m gone. You were the best thing to have ever happened to me and I will miss you more than anything. Just promise me one thing, will you? Every time you think of me,

say it.

Tag List: @queenie1223 @kiannerm @ask-dom-brian-may70 @ailucascen @rogertayolr @galileoqueen-mama-mia @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage @westansstuff

[polaristranslations]

Musubimonogatari: Afterword

Afterword

After I started writing a series, the question I've gotten the most tired of being asked and having to answer would be the oft-asked, "How far in advance did you think of these things?" If I answer "I didn't particularly think of anything in advance", then it would just sound hostile and disappoint the asker, but if I answer "Everything was calculated well in advance and everything is going according to plan", that also sounded rather unpleasant. Saying, "Things were thought of in advance to some degree, but a lot of it was set up to reasonably fit the situation and trends at the time, and I managed to put it together in some way or another, despite adding new things or going back to old things on the fly" would be the most accurate answer, and you might wonder, what part of this ambiguous answer could possibly be accurate? But really, that's about it. In short, it's a problem that involves "to some degree" or "to some extent", so if you ask whether something is 1 or 0 with no in-between--well, no matter how much an author plans things out, I highly doubt that there's anyone that can make things go perfectly as planned over a course of a series. When you actually start writing, it may end up turning out completely different from what you imagined in your head, and it's something you won't know until you try, so it's not necessarily the right thing to do to insist on sticking to the plan, either. It is important to carry out your original intention, of course, but "if you do it once and it's bad, you should do it again" is also a possibility. What's important is not to "think of things in advance", but to "keep thinking of things until the very end", is ultimately what I've repeatedly ended up believing and not believing.

Anyway, taking this from a different perspective, then what about the Monogatari Series? When the two volumes of "Bakemonogatari" were published in 2006, I can't definitively speak for whether or not I had any ideas of the contents of the book you're reading, since I can't remember very clearly, but it's likely that I hadn't written a single word of this book. Far from "Bakemonogatari", even when I wrote the previous work, "Nademonogatari", I believe I hadn't written a single word of this book. Well, I'm sure there was at least a single word. But if you take that to mean that I hadn't thought of anything about it at all, then I don't think that's quite right, either. I had probably thought about it, thought about it, thought about it, and thought about it some more, and with over ten years passing, I can surmise that some of what I thought about stayed alive in some form or another in this book. I can believe that the things I thought about didn't go to waste. For example, even if there was an idea I didn't use, that train of thought had still taken form, which could then have acted as another path for me. And so, you have this book that was one hundred percent written as a hobby, the once-again completed Monogatari Series, the 22nd volume detailing Araragi Koyomi at 23 years of age, the final book of the Off Season, "Musubimonogatari".

I am grateful to VOFAN-san for the illustration of Senjougahara Hitagi in a white kimono on the cover. Thank you very much. She is also 23 years old now. As a bit of an overlap with the cover of "Bakemonogatari", she's carrying a stapler in her hand. Ten years ago, I would never have predicted that Senjougahara-san would grace the cover of a book like this. Now then, what shall I think of next?

Nisio Isin

Translator's Afterword

If you've reached this point while under the impression that you've just finished reading the novel, "Musubimonogatari", by Nisio Isin, then you'd be wrong. At worst, this is just some well-written fanfiction. Or perhaps even poorly-written, depending on your tastes. Anyway, the point I'm trying to get at is that a translated work is never simply just "translated"--the work inevitably has to be interpreted and transformed by the translator, and the output that is produced will inevitably contain the translator's presumptions and biases, whether they're biases regarding the work itself, biases regarding the English language, or something else entirely. It's almost like a warped version of the Ship of Theseus. Well, in short, just take my translation (and by extension, all translations) with a grain of salt. I just felt like writing a smart-sounding paragraph to sound clever and philosophical like Nisio did above.

Overall, I took a much more cavalier (that is, lazy) approach to this novel, focusing more on readability in English than preserving every minute detail of the text as presented in Japanese. Hopefully I succeeded, and the text does flow well enough for an amateur translation. I figure it's worth noting that in a Japanese-to-English translation, you'd think the hard part would be being fluent in Japanese, but honestly I felt like this was a bigger challenge to my knowledge of the English language more than anything. I also went with an approach of not using translator's notes, since I always felt like they interrupted reading (especially with something like footnotes, which do not work on webpages because of how far you have to scroll down the page). Fortunately for this novel, there wasn't really a whole lot worth explaining, aside from the few puns that I just slipped in in-line Japanese readings for. Although, if a certain tongue-tied snail had appeared, that would have been its own struggle entirely.

There are so many more things about the translation that I could address, but it's probably better to stop myself now. In a way, I both pity and envy official translators who don't necessarily get a space like this to ramble on about their own opinions. Ideally, a translation should be able to stand on its own without its translator hovering around it like a helicopter parent, but on the other hand, it can be useful to have a space where I can take responsibility for my own influences that I've introduced into this translation. Regardless, on behalf of the original author, thanks for reading "Musubimonogatari", and please continue to support the Monogatari Series in the future.

Polaris

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Always Gold

After the rather dark and heavy thing I threw at you last time, here is something more fluffy (well, as fluffy as concussions and broken ribs can get). Tony is injured while protecting Peter in a battle, but he has to pull through to get everyone to safety...

Featuring Peter repairing an airplane, Tony being heavily whumped (as usual), and Natasha being Natasha. Share it if you like it. Tags for Injury, emeto, and a little bit angsty Peter at the end.

Tony comes to when he hears Peter's voice saying his name, muffled through layers of half-consciousness. He hesitantly opens one of his eyes. Reality is awfully bright and loud and he immediately decides that he doesn´t like it. He wearily drags an arm over his face, trying to hide from the world. Everything hurts.

“Is Mr. Stark alright?” Peter asks anxiously, his shadow blocking out the angry lights assaulting Tony´s retinas when he bends over him.

“Yeah, but he's out of commission.” Nat´s voice.

“Am not.” He knows she´s right, but it´s Nat, so disagreeing is a matter of principle. Talking increases the pain in his head exponentially, his voice reverberating like thunder in his ears. Well, hoarse thunder.

“Yes, you are. Shut up and rest, Stark, you can join the discussion once you are able to talk without barfing.”

Tony ignores her and tries to push himself up on his elbows, just to dangerously tilt to the left. Or the right, for that matter, directions are not exactly his strong suit right now. Someone pushes him back down. He squints at the figure and catches sight of a threadbare blanket set against a background of steel and glas before he has to shut his eyes against the pain. Bruce. The quinjet.

“Seriously, Tony. Stay down. Doctor´s orders.” his voice is calm and gratefully low-key.

“Thought you're not that kind of doctor.” The numbness in Tony's limbs is slowly subsiding, and his body doesn´t like what it reveals. He feels like he´s had a wrestling match against the Hulk, without his suit.

“Well, sometimes I am.” Bruce rebutts.

“Then give me some pain killers.” Tony tries to make it sound casual, sensing Peter´s presence around, but it comes out pleading.

“I did, twice, and you threw them up both times.” Bruce states with sigh that´s close to exasperation.

“Oh.” He doesn't remember that. He doesn't remember a lot, actually. But now that Bruce mentions it, his stomach is definitely on the wrong side of funny.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Dude, you forgot again?” Bruce huffs. “I´m done repeating myself, seriously. Peter, come here, you tell him this time.” He gets up and makes for the rear of the jet.

The boy jumps towards the cot Tony is lying on and bends down to his level, eager to help. There´s a small bruise on his temple, but else he seems unharmed. That´s something, at least.

“Well, enlighten me, kid,” Tony sighs.

“We were on a mission, Mr. Stark, and there was a huge amount of Hydra agents, lots of them, and they had crazy tech, like, you know these water guns that you used to play with as a kid - or I did, at least - just like these, only they were real guns, and without the colouring- “

“Geez, just come to the point, kid”, Tony interrupts, “You´re worse than a truckload of grannys on coffee klatch.” He doesn´t want to be rude, but god, he´s tired. And nauseous. He can feel his stomach slowly climbing up his throat.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peter blushes, and his tone sobers up a little. “Okay, so we were fighting, and I nearly had their leader tied to a street lamp,” he mimics firing his webshooters, “but then he kinda blasted the wall behind me with his gun, which was not a fair move at all, seriously. And then...” he looks down, suddenly appearing guilty.

“...then Daddy came and saved his life heroically, pushing him to safety and getting buried underneath a bulding. Once again.” Nat finishes for him, glancing over from where she´s sitting at the control panel. “God, we should sell the movie rights, your grannys would cry their eyes out.” 

“I could have handled it!” Peter protests, the volume of his voice making Tony cringe.

“No, you couldn´t've.” he objects.

“That's not fair! You don´t even remember what happened!”

“Don't need to. I know how you are, pre-K, taking on stuff that's too big for you, trying to be a god-damn action hero.” Tony coughs, wishing for it not to turn into a gag, and his whole body aches with the sudden movement. Peter´s form has become a blur in front of his eyes.

“Who´s the hero here? I didn´t get a concussion trying to protect my teammates!” the boy objects.

“Watch it, kid! I´d lecture you on what's written in the manual about dangerously reckless behaviour, if... if I could remember.”  He trails off, swallowing heavily. “Anyways, we won?”

“We got away, and they have taken heavy hits.” Nat interferes. “But no, they aren´t finished off yet, and according to our intel, they might have aerial transport to follow us. We´re on autopilot, but I´m having the scanners run continuously.”

“What, you let them go?” he asks incredulously and just a tiny bit disappointed.

“Gosh, Tony, you were buried under a ton of rubble! I had to get you out and make sure that you weren´t dying from brain bleed, and Peter here was basically useless worrying about you as he does. I was glad I got Bruce calmed down from code green and all of you back in the jet before anything worse happened!”

“I wasn´t useless -” Peter speaks up, but Nat cuts him off.

“We already had this dicussion. Anyways, we can save the chit-chat for debrief. Tony, get back to sleep.”

He wants to object, but he´s afraid that he´ll lose the fight against the ever-growing nausea if he opens his mouth again. Also, keeping his eyes open makes him dizzy, so he leans back, hoping he´ll remember the conversation next time he wakes up. Darkness closes in as soon as he lets his head rest on the pillow.

---

“Stark, calm down, you're gonna scare the kid!”

He wakes up trashing, his own hoarse scream ringing in his ear, shadows of the attackers still hovering around him. His stomach is already sitting in his throat, and it´s all he can do to role over and heave over the side of the cot. Liquid splashes into a plastic bag. Someone´s there, holding it open for him, lightly patting his back.

“Just get it all up, okay?” a voice says. He opens his eyes a bit. Red hair and black leather blur into view. He flinches away, taking a moment to convince himself it´s Nat, not an enemy.

“Easy, Tony, you´re in the quinjet. The team's safe. You just had a bad dream or something.”  Her tone is soothing, bare of all her usual sarcasm. Tony briefly wonders what he just made her witness.

“I don't - remember you becoming -  such a mother hen?” he pants between gags. More comes up and god, it hurts. If anything, it has gotten worse than before. Not only his head, his chest is on flames now as well. He's sure he's got at least two broken ribs on top of the concussion.

“I am not.” Nat's back to her regular snippy self. “Just don't fancy spending the next hours in a plane reeking of your puke. Besides, I thought you'd rather have me than the kid watch you tossing cookies...?” she raises an eyebrow.

Right. Peter. The events come back to him, slowly. He coughs, another heave catching him off guard. His head is spinning. He tries to aim for the bag and catches a bit of her elbow.

“Fuck“, he groans. “'m sorry.”

“Yikes...” she grimaces, but then, more serious “It's bad, isn't it?”

“Na, I'll be good.” he spits and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, hating how his trembling fingers betrays him. “Had worse and survived.” He sees something flicker in her eyes. They both know what he's talking about.

She grabs his side and guides him back into a lying position, and he can't suppress an outcry.

“What now?” Nat demands.

“Ribs”, he groans between gritted teeth, “Fucking stop touching...”

“Okay, okay.” she lets go and Tony has to bite back a whimper when he falls onto the mattress. “Should´ve told me earlier. Anything else broken?”

"Not that I know,” he pants, “but do I look like a doctor? Speaking of that, where´s Mr. Choleric?”

“I sent him off to dreamland.” Nat motions with her head toward the rear. “He was pretty shaky after the fight. You know, calory burn, all that. Peter´s with him.”

“Hmm.” Tony groans. His head is spinning, and he can´t entirely catch his breath.

“Okay, you think you can keep down some water? We still got a few hours in front of us, don't want you all dried out once we reach New York.” She presses a bottle into his jittery hands.

Tony´s protest is lost in the sudden blaring of the jet´s alarms. Nat´s up and at the consoles in an instant, but before she can do anything, a loud crash sounds from the rear when something strikes the plane hard. The world tilts to the side, and it's all Tony can do to muffle his scream when his body hits the wall and agony explodes inside his head.

----- Peter was playing on his phone next to a dozing Bruce, trying to distract himself. Battles like these are still somewhat new to him and always leave him edgy, and the worry about his mentor isn´t exactly helping his nerves. Suddenly, his spider senses start tingling, causing the hairs on his forearms to stand. He is barely out of the door when a loud crash comes from behind him and a sudden loss of altitude makes his adrenaline spike. He runs to the front, trying not to lose his footing when the jet tilts.

The scene in the cockpit is chaotic, alarms blinking and blaring shrill, boxes and weapons that have come lose slipping around on the floor, Nat running to and fro while trying to stabilize the plane. Tony, apparently awake, is draped over the cot in a weird angle, squeezing his arms over his ears and grimacing in pain.

“What happened?” Bruce stumbles out behind Peter.

“They got us.” Nat replies briskly. She hits a few buttons and thankfully, the alarms fall silent.

“Bruce, headphones, bathroom.” she commands, not looking up from the monitors.

“I- ” he starts.

“Now!”

He doesn´t protest again, and Peter is grateful for it. They all know what's going to happen if he hulks out in the small space of the quinjet. Apart from that, Bruce Banner might be one of the world´s most brilliant scientists, but in his human form he isn´t usually of much help in combat situations.

Another hit makes the plane jump in the air, and Peter has to grasp the wall as not to keel over.

“Shit!” Nat glares at the screens that have suddenly gone black and mumbles something unintelligible that sounds a lot like a Russian curse. “System´s down." She presses a few buttons and kicks against the console, but nothing happens. “Stark, you conscious?”

“No.” comes a muffled groan. “But do I have a choice?”

“Not really. Weapon control´s is down, I gotta take them out manually from the rear before they blow us to pieces.” There is a bit of empathy in her voice when she continues. “You need to hold us stable, Tony, and get the system back online. Can you sit up?”

“If you tell me which way is up...” But he pushes himself onto his elbows and makes to sit. Peter is taken aback by how bad his mentor looks, white as a ghost, sweaty, ready to pass out. He doesn´t have time to think about it, though, because another explosion shakes the plane in its core and makes him and Nat reel on their feet. “They are nearly up to our level.” The assassin shoots Tony a look.

“Go, I got this!” he ensures, and Nat bolts to the storage to grab a monster of a gun that looks half as long and nearly as heavy as Peter. She positions herself near the loading ramp, hooks the weapon into its designated place and starts to shoot.

Peter turns back to Tony, who is now sitting hunched over, looking just about to be sick again. “What can I do?” he asks frantically, wanting to help but not knowing how. There´s too much input, the situation so different from the battles in the field where, despite the danger, there is always an emergency escape plan. And a mentor he can turn to who isn´t in danger of passing out any minute.

“Sit back. Be quiet.” Tony replies uncharacteristically brisk. He swallows heavily.

“But I want to help!” Peter protests. Tony doesn't look like he can see straight, let alone fly an airplane. Apart from the worry about his mentor, Peter is painfully aware that their all survival currently depends on the man´s ability to maneuver them out of the situation.

“A, this is not a video game, Parker, you can´t just learn to fly an airplane within a few minutes. At least not if you´re not me.” Tony slowly gets up, grasping for something to steady himself, then frowning as if he is trying to remember what he wanted to say. “And C”, he continues, “I´ve been getting along working on my own for 30 years, I think it´ll do for another few hours.”

Peter just stares at him.

“What?” Tony huffs, swaying on his feet.

“Your - your left pupil is blown, Mr. Stark. And you just skipped the second letter of the alphabet. I think you need some assistance.” Tony chooses this moment to lose his balance and unceremoniously crumble onto his butt, which Peter would find extremely funny if the situation wasn't that serious.

Tony´s hand flies to his mouth as he bends forward and gags. Sick drops down from between his fingers onto the floor. “Shit” he gasps, retching painfully once more. A trickle of bile is added to the small puddle on the ground. “Help me up.” he urges, still swallowing thickly, wiping his hand on his pants.

Peter hurriedly gets the engineer back to his feet and supports him into the pilot seat. Tony takes only a few seconds to manually alter their flight path and bring them far above the swarm of Hydra´s drones attacking them, which earns him a grateful thumbs-up from Nat who is still busy taking them out on her own.

Tony turns to the panel that hosts the jet´s AI, but is stopped by a coughing fit that knocks the air out of him. He wheezes, clutching his chest with one hand, trying desperately to inhale enough oxygen. Peter can practically hear broken ribs shifting against each other.

“Mr. Stark....” Peter trails off, his heartbeat speeding up. He is not a doctor, but he knows that this cannot be a good sign.

“I´m okay, kid.“ Tony coughs again, squeezing his eyes shut. His face looks even paler than before and his breathing goes ragged and sounds painful.  He squints at the control board, then sighs. “Fine, if you´re not gonna leave me alone, make yourself useful.”

He connects a tablet to the plane´s computer with shaky fingers and holds it out roughly in Peter´s direction. “Need to override the system to restart it, just enter whatever I´m telling ya. I´d do that myself, but the world is kinda... ” he draws a spinning movement into the air.

“Okay, okay, I can do that.” Peter says, taking a deep breath and trying not to panic at the thought that the man who's currently flying the plane can't see straight. Spiderman is needed now. Tony starts dictating him lines of code while keeping the plane on a more or less steady flight path, changing height and directions whenever Nat tells him to. Peter tries his best not to make mistakes, but a few times he misspell lines of code and Tony grunts angrily, apparently frustrated over his own lack of capability to complete the task.

“Mr. Stark? What now?” he asks and turns his head when Tony suddenly falls silent. The older man is gazing into space, one hand cradling the side of his head, the other curled loosely around the flight controller.

“What?” he blinks confusedly. “Good work, Parker, well done,” he rambles.

“No, Mr. Stark....the code. What should I enter next?”

“Huh?” he stares at Peter for a moment, then seems to remember. “Oh, ya you´re right. What's it saying on the screen again?”

After another ten minutes of tensed work, blue lights finally appear at the control panel and Peter lets out a breath he hadn´t realized he´s been holding.

“Welcome, Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker.” Friday´s voice greets them.

“About time!” Nat shouts over to them. “I was running out of ammo here. Friday, take over the flight control and focus on the targets. Take them out at my command!”

“Mr. Stark, we made it!” Peter exclaims, a proud grin spreading over his face.

But Tony doesn´t react. He is sagged into his seat, head leaning against the backrest, breathing fast and shallow, sweat beading his brow. His gaze seems to linger somewhere in the distance, eyelids slowly drooping.

“Mr. Stark, you're not going to pass out, are you? “

"I..." he trails off, nausea and panic crossing his face in rapid succession.

"Okay... We´ll get you lying down, I guess.” Peter says frantically, worry edging up in him. Tony's head lolls forward, and he retches, a slim streak of bile soiling his lap.

“Nat, Dr. Banner?” Peter calls out, “Can - can someone help, please?”

He watches anxiously when Bruce carries the engineer to the cot and starts to carefully sweep his ribs. Tony moans in pain and tries to curl into himself, only half-conscious and barely realizing what´s going on around him. It nearly breaks Peter´s heart to see him in a state like this. He knows Tony wouldn´t want him to watch it, but he can´t bring himself to turn away, either.

Suddenly guilt takes over. It´s his fault that his mentor is injured this badly, from all he knows, Peter should have been the one to be hit by the wall, he should be lying on that cot in pain right now. His knees grow weak beneath him, and he sinks down to the floor, shaking soundlessly.

“Are you okay, Peter?” Bruce asks in a soft tone.

“It´s - it´s all my fault.” he brings out. His throat is tight, his stomach a knot. He feels like he´s going to throw up, too. "He - he got hurt because of me."

“Na, kiddo. Stop talking bullshit”, comes a weak voice. Tony attempts a grin that quickly turns grimace. He shifts his head a little so he can face Peter directly. His brown eyes are rimmed by barely concealed pain, but they focus on Peter just as intensely as they always do.

“I´d lie if I said that I enjoy feeling like the leftovers of a car crash, and boy, I´m gonna give you hell you if you´re not more careful next time. But... we all make mistakes, and the important thing is that we learn from them.“ He coughs dryly, his voice sounding hoarse from vomiting when he goes on.

“I mean, you´re speaking to the guy who spent nearly twenty years of his life selling weapons for a living. People make stupid decisions, Peter, but just trust me, you´re gonna go mad if you hold yourself responsible for everything bad that happens around you.” His eyes hold onto Peter´s for a moment longer before drifting shut, exhaustion taking over, and Peter senses something deeper beneath these words. He doesn´t ask, though, knowing that now is not the time.

Instead, he shifts his body so that he is leaning directly against the cot. He crosses his arms at the height of Tony´s knees, leaving enough distance not to make him uncomfortable, but staying close enough to let him know someone is there with him. Peter rests his tired head on his elbows, deciding that he won´t move from Tony´s side anymore until the man gets medical attention. Despite everything, he feels safe for the first time that afternoon. The jet´s movements have become incredibly smooth, and he slowly succumbs to the exhaustion.

He wakes up in the same position when the quinjet touches down to earth, a little confused, a little tired, and comfortably warm thanks to a black leather jacket that is draped across his shoulders. The remainders of a nightmare waft through his head, and he quickly sits up to look at his mentor. Tony is still asleep, looking pale, weary, and hurting, but gladfully alive.

The quinjet´s ramp recedes, and Tony´s eyelids flutter open when a swarm of medics enter and lift him onto a stretcher. His gaze flickers around for a moment, then settles on Peter, and he winks at him once before he is carried out. Don´t worry kid, I´ll be alright.

And for now, that´s all Peter needs to know.

[kidcataldo]

Freeze Frame. Yep, that’s me. No, not Harry Potter. You see the boy in the very back, behind Harry Potter and the crowd of people hovering around him? The lanky second year reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? Yeah, that’s me. I’m Jerry, Jerry Potter, Harry’s lesser known little brother.

I know you all must be shocked, for you’ve read all seven books and/or eight movies and there’s no mention of a brother. Well, I’ve been there, I assure you. I’ve merely been a background character all this time. But now, in this cruddy fanfiction, it’s my time to shine! As I turned the page of the book I was reading, engrossed in the wonderful story before me, Hermione Granger bumped into me. “Sorry, I—oh, Jerry, it’s you,” she said. “I didn’t see you there.” “Oh bother,” I say with a hint of melancholy. “Fantastic Beasts,” she said, gesturing to my book. “Wonderful read, don’t you think?” “Yes, but I’m not quite sure Johnny Depp is the best choice to play Grindelwald.” Just then a roar of cheers erupted as Harry Potter, my famous big brother, was hoisted into the arms of the Weasley twins, who were chanting “Potter! Potter!” Harry, the one who defeated the dark Lord Voldemort with his mere thumb (I may be exaggerating a little bit, but I do it for emphasis), smiled at the attention. “What are you doing in Gryffindor tower?” questioned Hermione, for I was a Hufflepuff. “I think it best that I stay away from the Hufflepuffs for the time being.” You see, I made my special peanut butter chocolate chip cookies last night before the big quidditch game, and it seems Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff’s seeker, is allergic to both peanut butter and chocolate. The poor man nearly died. He forgave me at once, of course, but, unfortunately, the Hufflepuff’s are still bruised about the whole situation, especially since I was their replacement seeker and vowed to win the match for Cedric, even going as far as betting his life on it. I’m not too worried about it, though; I’ll just go to the kitchen later and bake some more cookies for them. Hufflepuffs forgive easily; I know I do, anyway. “Right,” said Hermione. “Potter! Potter!” chanted the Weasley twins as they carried Harry, my dear brother, around the common room as if he were their king. Oh! King Harry. Having enough of King Harry’s antics, I quietly slip out, the fat lady shocked to even see me, knowing all too well that I do not belong there. She opened her mouth to speak (or rather scold me), but somebody else spoke up first: “Vlimey, Potter!” It was Vlane, my Slytherin best friend. He was also in his second year at Hogwarts. “There you are. I’be veen looking for you eberywhere!” Vlane has a tendency to say his V’s like B’s and his B’s like V’s. I’m used to it now, but it sure has gotten us into some sticky situations in the past. “Sorry, Vlane—“ “No... it’s Vlane,” he says, with an emphasis on the V. “Yeah, that’s what I said,” I say. “Vlane.” “No, my name is Vlane,” he says. “V as in Vogart... Why does ebery one call me that? You know what, forget it, call me Blane for all I care... “Professor Snape needs to see us,” he continued. “He says it is of the utmost importance that we come to his office immediately.” I sighed, knowing all too well what kind of scolding we were about to endure.

“WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” roared Snape. “YOU TOLD ME THEY WOULD LOSE! YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY I BET ON YOU?” He huffed, turning away from the boys. “Quidditch prodigy my ass,” he mumbled. “I can’t let Slytherin lose again to those... those-“ “Vuffons?” suggested Vlane. “-assholes,” said Snape. “Just give me more time,” I say. “I’ll get you your win. I promise. Tomorrow’s the talent show and Vlane and I are doing magic tricks.” “That won’t get you anything, Potter!” he said with a snarl. “In case you haven’t noticed this whole damn school does magic tricks!” “But not muggle magic tricks,” I say, a smirk forming on my face. “The audience will sure to gibe us the golden win,” said Vlane happily. “Yes... yes, that’s brilliant,” said Snape in a whisper. “Arthur Weasley is the top judge this year... This could actually work.” “Of course it’ll work,” I say confidently. “When have my plans never not worked?” Snape raised an eyebrow, letting a fowl frown grow on his face.

“Welcome, wizards and witches,” announced Professor McGonagall proudly, “to the Thirty-first Annual Hogwarts Talent Show Competition. Each house will compete for the Hogwarts house cup. “Gryffindor is in first place with two hundred and forty-five points.” The Gryffindor team erupted into cheers, banging hard on their table, making sure everyone could hear them loud and clear. “Followed by Slytherin, who have two hundred and fifteen points.” Slytherin House all hollered, jumping out of their seats excitingly. “Ravenclaw is at one hundred and thirty, while Hufflepuff is in last with one hundred and one points. “It’s still anyone’s game,” she promised, though the smile on her face told me she was confident Gryffindor was gonna win. “We shall begin with a word from our sponsor.” McGonagall stepping aside, a big buff man emerged from the crowd. “Do YOU want to be BUFF like ME?” he questioned, flexing his big muscled tricep. “Well now ANYONE can,” he said, holding up a bottle of pink liquid, “with Rawling’s Magical Muscle Mixture. “Now, you all might be thinking, ‘Rawling, the Magical Muscle Mixture man, how did you create such a delicious mixture that also makes you beautiful?’ With magic, of course,” he said, smiling. All the girls in the crowd, including one Hermione Granger, squealed as he flexed more of his muscles. “Call now and I’ll include my blue mixture, which helps with hair growth. Or just stop at my store, Rawling’s Magical Muscle Mixture. Tell them Rawling sent you,” he said with a wink. Everyone applauded as he left the stage and Dumbledore appeared. “Thank you Rawling, the Magical Muscle man,” he said happily. “Our first contestant is unfortunately unable to perform, due to a peanut butter and chocolate incident.” I felt my face heat up as the Hufflepuffs all glared at me. “But Mr. Diggory, nonetheless, wishes his Hufflepuff family the very best of luck in this talent competition. “Moving on to our second competitors, Hermione Granger will now perform a rendition of God Save the Queen with Ginny Weasley on the piano. Ladies,” he said and both Hermione and Ginny went on the stage. The performance, though very dull, nevertheless seemed to astonish Mr. Weasley, who was in tears by the end. Every contestant must have been told that mundane muggle stuff excites him because it seemed that everyone was doing muggle things. The Patil twins tapped dance. Cho Chang recited a Law and Order episode by heart. The only one not to do anything muggle related was Draco Malfoy, who conjured up three snakes with his wand and forced them to eat each other. The competition is tough this year, I’m beginning to realize, but I know me and Vlane are tougher. “And finally Mr. Jerry Potter and Mr. VobleVooboo will be doing magic tricks,” he said, reading his notecard. “Correction, they will be doing mugglemagic tricks.” The crowd gasped as me and Vlane made our way up to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile; we had this thing in the palm of our hands. Vlane was dressed in his muggle magician suite, top hat and everything, while I wore my lovely assistant’s dress. “Ladies and gentlemen,” started Vlane, removing his hat. “Watch carefully, for I will not ve repeating myself... “Jerry, my lobely assistant,” he said, handing me his hat, “is there anything out of the ordinary about this hat?” I look inside and shrug. “Looks like a normal hat to me,” I say. “Oh, vut it’s not,” he said. Three taps on his fake muggle wand and Vlane reaches into the hat and pulls out a rabbit. The audience oohs and ahhs, followed by applause, captivated by the trick. Dropping the hat and placing the rabbit in my care, Vlane then picks up two large rings. “As you can see here, these rings are not meant to connect... or are they?” Forcefully, he clashed the two rings together and they connected. The crowd went wild. Mr. Weasley nearly fainted. “We gotta finish strong,” I whisper to Vlane as I help him wheel in a giant box. In the distance I see Professor Snape, looking quite impressed, if I do say so myself. I was going to win this one. For Snape and for Hufflepuff. “Remember, before you reopen the box, you have to say the magic words: Abada Kedabra. Got it?” “Right,” he nods confidently before turning back to the audience. “For my last trick, ladies and gentlemen, I will need help from someone in the audience. Any takers?” Almost everyone’s hands shot up. The only one who didn’t seem interested was Malfoy and a few of his friends. “What avout you, sir?” he said, pointing with his fake muggle wand at Professor Flitwick down in the front. Squealing excitingly, Flitwick wabbled his way up on stage. “Now, this may seem like an ordinary plain old muggle box,” Vlane said, opening it, “vut I assure you it is so much more! “Professor,” said Vlane dramatically, “if you would.” Flitwick entered the box and I closed the box securely and spun it around three times, just how we practiced (of course now there was a living person inside the box instead of Vlane’s stuffed serpent). “Now, on the count of three I will make our professor... disappear,” he said. Tapping his muggle wand onto the box, Vlane began counting. “One. Two... Three. Avada Kedavra!” Vlane’s muggle wand spirt out a flash of green. There was a crashing noise and Professor Flitwick came falling out. He lay on the floor, still. Upon closer inspection, I realized what hadn’t happened. Professor Flitwick was dead.